Andley
by Kaci Brianna
Summary: **DISCONTINUED: Andy is the typical high-school loner and the not-quite-band-geek. He has a deal with Coach to dress out for one week, and he's passed for the next year of Gym. But Ashley steps in to be his gym partner. And then, all hell breaks loose. Rated M to be safe; self-injuring, depression, and eating disorder triggers are mentioned.
1. Introduction

I would like it to be clarified that this was written before Andy chopped his hair off. I also would like it known that YES, I know Andy and Ashley both are very, very straight. But really... who cares about that on here?  
I've had this up on my Tumblr as well as my deviantART for quite a while, and I'm currently on the last chapter. As of now, this fic has 46,996 words, longer than any fic or original piece I've ever written. I'm awfully proud, if I don't say so myself.  
As this is a website solely for fanfiction, I figured "Why not?" and here I am, sharing my weird, bandslash fic.

_**Trigger warning. Mentioning of eating disorders, self-injuring/mutilating, depression, suicidal thoughts, and self-hatred.**_

* * *

School was awful. I mean, it was horrifying. But when I had to admit, it wasn't really good, period.

I shook my head before splashing more cool water on my face. It was a terrible day, worse than any other day of my sophomore year. Everything was the usual though: being avoided like the plague, being treated indifferently by the outcasts, being treated as though I were nothing more than gum on the bottom of one's shoe.

But I was used to it, and that's why it surprised me so much that it was affecting me. Being ignored and taunted were things I was used to. Being called "fag" and "fat", I was used to it. But I was letting it get to me now.

I glanced at my reflection in the mirror I saw a tall, long-haired boy. I shook my head and turned away, crawling into my bed instead.

Maybe tomorrow would be better. Maybe things wouldn't be as bad once I slept it off. I'd go to sleep and wake up with a clearer mind, and not let my own self-hatred get to me. It would be an average day, where I spend my time writing and talking to Matt and my band. I would act entirely normal, like nothing was wrong.

I'd go to school dressed as usual: skinny jeans, a fitted band tee, and combat-style boots. I'll wear too much eyeliner, and my hair will be its natural messy waves, which I won't bother to brush out or flat iron.

I thought of these things as my mind gave itself away to sleep. Only then did I finally feel comfortable enough to let my subconscious take over.

I woke up to my screeching alarm clock and groggily slapped at it until it finally shut up. I groaned, not wanting to leave my bed, but grabbed a towel and got up, heading towards the shower.

I turned the water on and, as I waited for it to heat up, I brushed out my tangles of hair. Then I stepped into the shower and allowed the water to wake me up.

I washed my hair, my body, and was about to get out when I heard a knock on the door. I shut off the water, wrapped the towel around my waist, and opened the door, all the while beginning to brush my teeth.

In the doorway, my mom stood and raised an eyebrow at me.

"Yes?" I asked through a mouthful of toothpaste bubbles.

"It's nearly eight; I thought you ought to know," she said, turning away and walked down the stairs.

I spit my toothpaste in the sink and rinsed my brush. Then I headed towards my room to put on my clothes and dry my hair.

I finally left with ten minutes or so to go. I called out, "I'll get breakfast on my way," as I exited the doorway, not even thinking twice about the lie. I said it nearly every day.

School was normal. Rather, it was normal for me. I was avoided, teased, mocked, bullied, and everything in between, but I was used to it. I was used to the shoving and pushing.

Matt stood right outside, waiting for me to pull up. He walked towards me, and greeted me as per usual.

"How's it going?" he asked.

I shrugged. "Boring," I replied—no need to mention anything.

He raised an eyebrow at me, but he shook it off. We were soon met up by Sandra, my other best friend. She looked at me carefully for a second before breaking into a grin.

"Hey, Andy," she greeted me. She hugged me shortly around the waist.

"Hi, Sandra," I said with a roll of my eyes, but I was smiling.

Matt glanced around us and shot me an apologetic look. "Sorry, man, I gotta go; I've got morning detention."

I chuckled and nodded. "Okay, I'll see you later." He turned and jogged in the direction of the classroom. I looked back at Sandra. She was watching Matt, with narrowed eyes. Playfully, I punched her in the arm.

"I don't trust him," she said eventually. She'd told me that before, yet I couldn't care less.

"I know, I know," I responded.

Her eyes raked over me and a worried look clouded her eyes. "Andy, you're looking really thin… have you eaten anything lately?"

And that was why she was my best friend. Because she knew about me—my past, my present, my future… and my eating disorder.

I shrugged, not meeting her eyes. She reached up, though, and forced my face to hers, though she was nearly a foot shorter than me. "Andy, you can't do this again!" she exclaimed in a whisper.

When I didn't respond, she gave an angry grunt and began digging through her backpack. I saw her pull out a granola bar, open it, and force it into my hand. "Eat," she said simply.

I narrowed my eyes at her, but took a small bite of it. She rolled her eyes, but I cut her off by saying, "I'm eating, aren't I? Now let's go; class started already."

Her eyes widened and she nodded. We had our first class together, along with Matt. He was already there at our lab desk, while Sandra sat at the table nearest me, sitting with Christian, otherwise known as CC. They both immediately launched into a heated discussion about drumming—which drum set was better, who was the better drummer, among other things. She kept looking over at me and I made a show of chewing and swallowing the granola bar.

Matt had his head placed on the desk, already sound asleep. I found myself grinning, despite my bad mood. Shaking my head, I pulled out an old, battered Batman notebook and flipped it to the first clean sheet I saw. I immediately began writing, skipping lines every now and then, mentally singing the lyrics as I wrote them. Although class was still going on, I didn't pay any attention. I was busy writing and composing.

I later felt everybody begin to rustle, which I knew was the sign that class was nearing its end. I began putting my notebook and pen into my backpack when I heard the loud, grating bell, and students began pouring out into the hallway. Sandra, CC, and Matt all stood waiting for me.

CC was the first to talk. "So, Andy, do you have any idea on when the next practice will be?"

I sighed. "Sometime this weekend, I hope. My parents will be gone and we'll actually be able to practice."

Sasha smiled at me. "What had you so focused all period?" she teased, pulling my notebook out of my bag and flipping to the dog-eared page.

"Lyrics," I said with a raised eyebrow. She read it quickly, a look of wonder on her face.

"I swear, if this band thing doesn't work out, you could write lyrics for a living," she said. Matt nodded in agreement, having read the song over her shoulder.

I rolled my eyes. "You all are just saying that. Besides, you all know we still need a bass player and a band name." I gave an exasperated sigh.

At that moment, our two guitarists walked up. Jinxx was his usual quiet self, but Jake said, "What about a band name?"

Again, I rolled my eyes. Then CC grinned, saying. "I told you guys—the White Assless Chapped Grooms is going to be a hit!"

Everybody dissolved into laughter, even me. That was CC for you: completely insane yet hilarious. Even Jinxx was laughing, doubling over in an attempt to breathe. "Never," he gasped, "in a million years am I going to be a White Assless Chapped Groom, CC!" he exclaimed, earning another round of laughter.

Time seemed to fast forward after that. My next two classes both passed in a blur, and I spent my time editing my lyrics and figuring out chords and whatnot for the song. Right when another bell rang, signaling the end of my third period class, I stood and walked out of the classroom, only to myself at the gym's entrance.

All of the guys were already on their way to the dressing rooms, hooting and jumping around like the monkeys they were. I entered carefully and took my assigned seat on the bleachers, crossing my legs and taking out my Batman notebook, once again. Though this time, I sang the lyrics quietly, testing how they sounded.

"_I never meant to be the one who kept you from the dark_," I sang. I contemplated the line, and then I nodded, continuing with the lyrics.

"_But now I know my wounds are sewn, because of who you are_." The guys were beginning to emerge, so I grabbed my bag and, holding my book carefully, moved higher up on the bleachers, where they wouldn't hear me.

Once I sat down, I took my lip ring into my teeth and scratched out a line of lyrics. Then I sang, "_I will take this burden on and become the holy one; but remember I am human and I'm bound to sing this song_." I nodded, liking the way it sounded. I could already hear Jake's guitar riffs and Jinxx's violin in my mind.

"_So_ _hear my voice, remind you not to bleed. I am here_…" I paused, looking up at the group of boys, steadily growing larger and larger on the bleachers. Strangely, I rested my gaze on Ashley Purdy.

Don't let the name fool you—he was very much a man. His skin-tight tank top displayed that easily, and I knew he'd take it off at the first chance he got to impress the girls… and to show off his tattoo that read "Outlaw" in an arc over his bellybutton. It was clearly his favourite tattoo; he tried to show it off nearly every chance he got.

I shook my head, returning to the song in my lap. But as I sang the next line ("_Saviour will be there, when you are feeling alone, oh_"), my thoughts were still on Ashley.

I'd heard rumours that he was a musician—a bass guitarist, to be exact. I'd considered going up to him and asking if it was true, or sending Matt to ask for me (or even Sandra), but I didn't want him to tell his friends that the band geeks wanted him in their band. But still, I couldn't help but be curious, and I _did_ need a bass player.

I sighed and looked back at my song, wondering as I murmured the next lyrics, "_A saviour, for all that you do. So you live freely without their harm_." I nodded again, beginning to work on the next verse of the song.

But again, I thought of Ashley. If he even actually managed to join the band, I don't think anybody would be too pleased. CC, for one, has said on countless occasions that he didn't like Ashley because he took all the girls, leaving him "sloppy seconds", as he called them. Jake, too, has said that, and also thinks Ashley would bring a flock of people with him to each practice. I think, out of everyone, only Jinxx would be indifferent. Sandra would probably freak out at first, but accept it alright; Matt would probably just freak out.

Just then, I heard an angry voice yell: "Biersack!"

I looked up to see Coach, shaking his head furiously at me. I raised an eyebrow, and he pointed at me, and then at the spot beside him. I sighed and walked forward, doing as he asked and stopping beside him.

"Biersack," he repeated. "You haven't dressed out since you were a freshman—how do you expect to pass this class?"

I shrugged. His face turned red, and I could see him holding back something he was going to say. Then he held up a finger, went to his desk, and pulled out a small pile of folded clothes. He walked over to me, and shoved them in my hands.

"They'll fit you; just go get dressed. Dress out just this week, and you won't have to for the rest of the year. I'll pass you."

I raised an eyebrow. Should I dress into the gym clothes and work out with the guys who enjoyed making my life similar to a hell? Because, despite that they all were already dressed into their gym clothes, I'd have to dress back into my regular clothes with them. But then I thought of something.

"If I dress out this week," I said in my deep voice, "I won't have to for the remaining part of this year—or next year."

He sighed, closing his eyes and nodding, saying, "Fine. If you dress out this week, you won't need to for rest of this year or the next."

I smiled. "I'll need that in writing, so when I get back out, I expect to have it." And I turned on my heel and walked towards the dressing room.

I dressed into the new clothes slowly, trying to make them look less awkward on me. I knew that I wouldn't feel comfortable in them whatsoever so I gave up after finally tying my boots back up and sighed. I pushed the hair out of my face and walked out of the dressing room and onto the gym floor, where the guys all were gathered. Every one of them began laughing at me when they saw me.

_I won't let them get to me,_ I said internally. _I won't let them get to me._

Coach blew his whistle, causing the guys to all shut up. He nodded towards me, handed me my note, and said, "Andrew and I have an agreement that he'll dress out this week. Just do what you normally do, guys." He turned away then, sitting back at his desk. I panicked a little—what they _usually_ did was torment me. But I kept my poker face on, and simply raised an eyebrow at them all.

"Don't mind me," I called out, crossing my arms. "I don't exist." _I won't let them get to me._

Just then Ashley Purdy cleared his through and called out, "Alright guys—let's get to it." He led the group to the front of the gym and began stretching his arms, and we followed suit. Or rather, the guys followed suit, and I did a lazy imitation of them. For instance, when they began running, I was walking, and slowly at that.

Finally, we finished—and while the other guys were sweating, I was sitting there, not even breathing hard. I smirked at them all and waved, mocking them slightly. I saw one of them curl their lip up at me and take a step towards me.

_I won't let them get to me_, I thought again. And then, I saw a tan figure standing in between myself and the guy: yet again, Ashley Purdy. He was saying something to the guy, who seemed to be getting angrier by the second. Finally, he turned away and stalked off. Ashley turned around and looked at me, looking wary. He began walking towards me and said, once he was near enough, "You should really do more than sit."

I only looked at him, sporting my flawless poker face. "It isn't a part of my deal," I said evenly.

"Regardless," he replied. Then he glanced around and said, in a quieter voice, "If you don't do _something_, they'll find a way to beat you senseless. Even if you only do the warm-up—it's better than nothing."

I forced myself not to react. I only shrugged, stood, and moved higher up on the bleachers. I saw him shake his head and then run towards the rest of the guys. He was saying something to them, something that seemed to aggravate them. Nearly all of them began yelling at once. I clearly heard Ashley yell, "Enough!" in a voice that rang with finality. Everybody gave up with the arguing and they turned away. Ashley, too, turned away, only to look back at me and yell, "Get over here, Biersack!"

I glared at him. "I've got a name," I yelled back.

He scowled at me. "Okay, _Andrew_," he said, putting unnecessary emphasis on my name. I walked towards him slowly, stopping several feet away from him.

"Seeing as though I'm the only person willing to work with you," he said, "I'm your partner this week. We're doing one-on-one volleyball."

I groaned mentally. Volleyball—one of the most boring sports ever.

Ashley, as though he read my mind, laughed, saying, "It was volleyball or dodge ball. We can still do the latter, if you want."

I violently shook my head. He nodded. "Well, go grab a ball. We're just practicing passing it back and forth for today." He rolled his eyes, and motioned for me to go. I did so, only after flipping him the bird. Fortunately, nobody stopped me on my way over there; unfortunately, I was stopped on my way back.

"So," the guy said. It was the one Ashley yelled at previously, the one who curled his lip in disgust at me. "Andrew, is it?"

I pushed past him, rejoining Ashley on the other end of the court. I pressed my palms together, making a fold with them, and hit the ball towards him, harder than I should have. He caught it swiftly, raising an eyebrow at me.

"What?" I snarled at him.

He shrugged, throwing the ball in the air and hitting the ball back at me. "I'd have thought you didn't know how to hit the ball, is all," he said.

More forcefully, I hit it in his direction. "It's boring. I used to take lessons." I grunted as I caught it, and then I hit it back.

Neither of us spoke after that. We simply tossed the ball back and forth, occasionally ducking away from the straw balls that came towards us. Eventually, Coach blew his whistle, signaling the end of class and to dress back into our clothes.

I was the last to enter the locker room. Most of the guys were already putting their shoes on. I unlaced my boots and headed for a bathroom stall with my clothes in my hand. I changed quickly, exited faster than that, and immediately slipped my boots back on my feet, curing myself for choosing the pair that morning. Nonetheless, I managed to get fully dressed and exited the room.

I went for my bag almost immediately, pulling out my notebook and turning to another clean sheet. I began scribbling lyrics down: "_Saints born together to fight against their holy fables; the streets are where we pray. Hymns for the lonely, wretched, and forgotten; this feeling in our hearts won't ever fade away_." I sang as I wrote, getting as far as the second verse, before the bell rang. I stuffed the book into my bag and nearly ran towards my math class.


	2. Ashley Purdy

Sandra was already there, along with Jinxx. They sat beside each other, speaking rapidly to each other. They both grinned when they saw me and waved me over.

I just about threw my bag on the floor beside me. Both their eyes widened. "Did PE suck that bad?" Jinxx asked.

I glared at him, and his eyes widened even more. He dropped the subject.

The teacher started class at that exact moment, effectively stopping all discussions at once. I took my book out again and continued writing. Then a note, written in a neat manor, came into my view. "_What happened?_" it read.

I looked at her through the corner of my eye. She was doing the same, looking at me. I took a silent breath and wrote what happened in as little words as possible, all the while keeping my eyes on the teacher. She'd know why it was messy then; I didn't want her reading this aloud. It would've been the end of me.

"_Volleyball 4 PE, partnered with A. Purdy, usual dumb shit_," I wrote down. I waited for the teacher to turn back around to pass the note to Sandra. She read it quickly and, knowing the usual drill for our notes, immediately shoved it in the deepest part of her backpack. She and I looked at each other, and she tapped her wrist and mimed eating, telling me that I'll explain during lunch, which was when we had the most time to talk without being interrupted.

However, approximately ten minutes after, our teacher assigned us into groups and told us to work on figuring out various math problems on the board. Thankfully, my group was only Jinxx and Sandra, and we would have the rest of class alone and unbothered.

The second we were dismissed to work amongst ourselves, Sandra turned to me and blurted, "But you don't even dress out!"

I angrily began scribbling my name, Sandra's name, and Jinxx's name—which was Jeremy—on a sheet of paper. "I have a deal with Coach. I dress out this week, and he'll pass me for the rest of this year and next year." I nearly stabbed a hole in the papers I wrote on, and Jinxx carefully took the pen and paper out of my hand, copying down the remaining problems on the paper.

Sandra was gaping at me. "But explain Ashley," she urged.

Reluctantly, my eyes traveled to the opposite end of the room, where he sat, bent over a sheet of paper, his tongue sticking out of his mouth, his eyes squinted, trying to work out a problem. I shook my head at the sight of him: wearing nearly the same clothes I was, hair nearly as long, but still accepted.

"He was the only person willing to work with me," I said eventually. "We're doing volleyball—his choice. They all wanted dodge ball." I repressed another shudder. Jinxx and Sandra _did _shudder.

We sat in silence, all of us working on our assigned problems—or, attempting to, in my case. I couldn't figure it out for the life of me. I read the textbook over and watched as my two friends answered them easily, trying to figure out what to do. Finally, I gave up, and began watching my classmates. At one point, I rested my head in my arms, and watched the students lazily. Nearly everybody was still working, everybody except the group at the back of the class, the one with Ashley. When I looked at him, I felt angry again. I felt angry because I felt like we were the same people, but he was only more popular because he was the jock-type.

His eyes flickered upward at once, looking up at me almost instantly. I refused to look away; instead, I glared at him unblinkingly until he looked away.

Then, finally, mercifully, the bell rang. I picked up my bag and walked out with my two friends towards the cafeteria, where we met up at our usual table with Matt, CC, Jake, and, surprisingly, Scout, my girlfriend. She kissed me lightly on the lips and sat down beside me, holding my hand gently in hers.

Matt looked at us and scowled. I smirked slightly, but had to admit I felt better beside her.

"They're talking about you again, Andy," she said softly, smiling in a sort of sad, confused way.

I stroked the back of her hand with my thumb. "Whatever it is," I said, equally as quiet, "I doubt it's true."

She raised an eyebrow at me and a corner of her lips twitched in a smile. "So you haven't made a deal with Coach?" she questioned.

Sandra, grinning at us through a mouthful of sandwich, nodded. "It's true!" she confirmed.

Matt's eyed widened, and suddenly they all began laughing: Matt, Jinxx, CC, Jake, and Sandra. Even Scout was shaking with suppressed laughs. I frowned at them all.

"I'm sorry, man," CC wheezed. "That's just…. What's in it for you?"

"I won't have to deal with this fucking class if I do this, alright?" I snapped at him. Scout tightened her grip on my hand, making me calm myself down.

Sandra was smiling again, but I thought it looked more forced. "Are you going to eat anything Andy?" she asked, sounding casual.

I nearly froze—which wouldn't have been good, because Scout was leaning against my side. She couldn't seriously be asking this in front of all of our friends—none of which know anything about me, not even Scout.

I cleared my throat and shook my head. "Nah, I'm not hungry," I lied.

She nodded, but her eyes held mine, a pleading look in them that was meant only for me. I barely shook my head, only looking back into her eyes to telegraph the words "Don't you dare say anything" into her mind.

She didn't say anything else to me during the rest of lunch, instead speaking to CC and Jake, discussing which bands were better than other bands, typically. You could always count of those three to be constantly talking about music.

Soon, another person came and joined us, taking her usual spot beside Jinxx. It was Sammi, his girlfriend. They'd been together for almost one year. He smiled at her and kissed her cheek, causing her to blush and give a shaky wave to everybody at the table.

"Hey," she said feebly. We all waved at her—or attempted to, because she was half-hidden in Jinxx's side. She laughed and leaned forward, allowing us all to see her. She began a conversation with Scout, who also leaned forward, though her hand didn't leave mine.

I listened to the various conversations going on around me. Matt was talking to Jinxx. CC and Sandra were talking to Jake. Scout was talking to Sammi. And I was just sitting there, taking it all in.

I didn't like school. I felt as if that were obvious. The only class I was remotely good at was choir, but I hated the class because the song choices were all either Sunday-School songs or songs meant for the teenagers who were in love with people like Nicki Minaj or Lil Wayne—most definitely not my type of music. And now, PE was another one of my least favourites, too.

Yet again, I thought of Ashley, and began comparing myself to him. We both wore the same style of clothing—tight jeans and shirts, leather, motorcycle-style boots. We both had considerably long, black hair, except he wore his straight while I left mine wavy nearly every day. We also both wore makeup, oddly enough. But he wore very little; I wore nearly a full face. And of course, there was the rumour that he was a musician.

But the major difference between the two of us was that he was popular. People liked him, enjoyed spending time with him. People listened to him. And I was the laughingstock, the one nobody knew and everybody disliked.

I didn't enjoy working with him, to be honest. It's not that I didn't like him; if anything, I felt grateful towards him for keeping the guys in PE from tormenting me, and not prodding into my business. But those feelings also made me feel angry, mostly because they implied that I liked the feeling of being taken care of. And so, I didn't enjoy being partnered with Ashley Purdy,

For the third time that day, I put my head in my arms. My head was aching, and I couldn't entirely understand why. I heard Scout stop talking and she leaned closer to me. "Are you okay?" she asked quietly.

I shook my head, not saying a word. I felt another person scoot closer to me and heard Sandra's voice say worriedly, "Andy, what's wrong?"

Then Matt said, "Yeah, man, you aren't looking so good…."

I sat up abruptly, pushing them both away from me, glaring at them all, except for Scout. "I'm fine," I snapped. "I'm fine; my head just hurts." I stood up, slinging my bag over my shoulder. "I'm leaving for today. I may be here tomorrow, I don't know yet." I turned and left, already fishing my keys out of my pocket. I got all the way out into the hallway before my head suddenly began pounding, causing me to stumble and grab the wall for support.

Then I heard yet another voice: "Andy?"

I cursed aloud, forcing my eyes open and stepping away from the wall, gritting my teeth against the pain in my head and taking several steps forward. I ignored him—that is, until another wave of dizziness hit me and I nearly fell over. Ashley was at my side in an instant, an arm underneath my shoulders, supporting me, though he was several inches shorter.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

I wrenched myself away from him and hissed, "Leave me the fuck alone, Purdy."

He did, too... for five seconds. Then he said, "I know you think I hate you and wish nothing more than seeing you in an unimaginable amount of pain, but I want you to know that that's not the case." Again, he stepped forward and placed an arm under my shoulders, holding me upright.

"I don't need your help!" I yelled at him, causing him to drop his arm.

His eyes narrowed at me. "You're just asking me to lose my temper, aren't you?" he asked. He shook his head. "Despite whether or not you want it, Biersack, you can hardly walk straight without falling over. I presume you're leaving for today, so at least let me get you to your car where you can wallow in your self-pity in solitude."

Not caring about my headache for a second, I felt anger rush up inside of me, and I took several steps towards him, getting in his face, my hands curling into shaking fists. He looked right up at me, though, not backing down. Then my pain caught up with me and I winced, not quite dropping to my knees, cursing myself again for showing weakness in front of him. But he didn't laugh or smirk or smile in the least; instead his mouth opened slightly and his eyes widened, and he lifted me from my knees.

And at that point, I didn't argue. I was too tired to argue, and I didn't have the energy. I settled for making the job as hard for him as was possible, dragging my feet, cursing the entire way.

Finally we reached the outside. Most of the students were still in the cafeteria, though several were outside, including some of the boys from my PE class. I heard laughing all around me (though I didn't know if it was my paranoia playing tricks on me or not). Then I suddenly found myself at my car, wondering how in the hell Ashley knew what car I drove.

He left me beside the passenger's side door before taking the keys from my left hand and walking around to the driver's side door. I yelled at him, "What do you think you're doing?" and then proceeded to wince at the pain it caused me.

He raised an eyebrow and nodded, as though that proved his point. "You can't do anything without it hurting like a bitch. I'm driving you home." He unlocked the door and got in, unlocked mine and waiting for me to get inside of the car.

He rolled his eyes at me. "Biersack," he said, "just get in the damned car. It won't kill you to let me drive."

I gave up. I sighed and entered the car, slamming my door harder than was necessary. Then, not caring about if he liked it or not, I plugged my iPod into my stereo system and began blasting KISS, and then rested my head on the headrest of the chair.

But to my surprise, I could hear him singing along to the songs playing, word for word. I watched him for nearly an entire song, and then I shook my head, shutting my eyes, and he stopped singing awkwardly.

"I like this music," he admitted. I didn't reply. I was actually dozing off when my car suddenly stopped moving. I opened one eye and saw my house right in front of me.

"How did you know where I live?" I asked him carefully.

He shrugged. "I talk to Sandra every now and then. She's mentioned it." He raised an eyebrow at me and I, again, shook my head and exited the car, stumbling the entire way into my house and towards my bedroom. Annoyingly enough, Ashley walked with me, keeping a hand on my elbow, steadying me enough to keep from falling over. He got as far as the doorway to my bedroom, where I about jumped into my bed, curling into a ball and burying my face into my pillow.

He cleared his throat awkwardly. "Is there, uh, anything I can get for you?" he asked.

I looked up long enough to glare at him. "You can get out of my house," I suggested.

"I'm trying to help here," he snapped, glaring back at me.

I squeezed my eyes shut and murmured, "Just go away, Purdy. I have a headache; I'm not dying."

It sounded as though he left after that—I wasn't actually paying attention, I simply heard footsteps heading in the opposite direction, and then a door shutting. Then another round of pain surged into my head and I cursed aloud, taking my head in my hands, a stray tear leaking down my cheek. I was hurting too much to wipe it away. Instead, more tears poured from my eyes, and my breathing became more and more uneven and choked. I didn't try to silence my sobs—I rode the wave of sadness that incapacitated me.

I spent that night trying to nurse my headache. I didn't write, sing, listen to music, turn a light on, and I hardly moved, except to force my boots off of my feet and my jeans off of my legs. Then I gave up, stopped moving, and rested my head gingerly on a mountain of pillows, silently crying and attempting to fall asleep.

"Andy?"

I groaned and clutched at my head, not opening my eyes. I hadn't slept a wink, the pain in my head being too intense. I felt my mom sit down on my bed, and she rested her hand on my forehead.

"What's wrong, Andy?" she asked, sounding motherly.

I gritted my teeth and said, agitatedly, "My head hurts."

She sighed, standing up and shutting my light off. "This is your free pass for this week," she said quietly as she shut my door and left my room.


	3. Acquaintances

Ashley Purdy

The guys were all pissed at me. "Why can't we just teach the little ass a lesson?" they'd asked me. "Why can't we just toss him around like usual?"

It wasn't like I actually knew the guy, because I didn't. I knew nothing about this boy, Andrew Biersack. I knew the rumours of him, and I knew what the school said about him, but nobody at that school really had any true information, except maybe Sandra, and she absolutely refused to talk about him, even if it was to prove the rumours were wrong.

But then, during PE, he almost encouraged the rumours. He acted like a prick—like he owned everyone and everything. To be truthful, he acted like an ass who thought he was better than everybody else. I almost _did_ let the guys all play dodge ball—but I didn't. I felt bad for him because he was probably that way because of how bad everybody else treated him.

And then there was everything that happened after lunch…. He looked like he was in some serious pain. Then I said something that made him get so mad that he lunged for me. But then he was hurting again, and he was still trying to be angry—he looked almost conflicted.

I drove him home, and left just in time to hear him crying. I considered turning around and attempting to comfort him, but decided against it because I had the feeling that he would only become more defensive.

I didn't bother to tell him at any point that we were practically neighbors. I left his house and turned towards the next street, passed by four houses, and stopped. I shook my head and entered the house I rented, dropping my backpack on the ground in the living room. I sighed, walking towards my bedroom and face-planting against my pillows. I felt the urge to scream into them, and I did, relaxing once more afterwards.

He was an ass. Regardless of if the rumours were true or not, he was a complete and utter ass. He'd been nothing but rude to me, even when he was obviously having some kind of melt down. Why _didn't_ I let those guys have him?

_Because you know there's more wrong with him than he's letting on_, my mind reminded me. I groaned into my pillow, waiting nothing more than to forget that it all happened—going to class, partnering with Andy, driving him home. But still, I had to realize that my thought was true. There _was_ something about Andy that was going on with him, but I couldn't put my finger on what it was. Sandra would know, but she would never tell me. I would feel like nothing more than a douche if I asked Scout, and I knew that those "band mates" of his would get defensive in a heartbeat.

Maybe I just felt bad for the guy. I mean, it was a definite possibility. He was the lowest of the low, beneath the geeks and the people who acted as though they still belonged in elementary school. He was beneath everybody, and was reminded of it every day.

I felt pleased, though, because I knew that I had never once made fun of him. Not once in my life did I tease him, or make him feel like hell. But, if I were honest with myself, I never tried to make him feel any better either. I couldn't risk it, not with _my _own reputation. So I talked to Sandra instead, because she was middle-class, so to speak.

Sitting up, I picked my phone up and decided to dial Sandra's number. I could tell her what happened, and maybe ask her what's going on in the meantime. But suddenly the call ended, and I received a text from her: _WTF do you want? It's the middle of class!_

I groaned again and cursed myself. _Sorry_, I texted back, _wanted to tell you that I drove Andy home._

There was nearly a full minute's pause before she replied. _And he let you?_

I smirked in spite of myself. _I forced him. He couldn't walk in a straight line. I wasn't going to risk him driving._

The reply took longer than before. Nearly ten minutes later, my phone buzzed and I answered the call from Sandra.

"Is he alright?" was the first sentence out of her end of the line.

I sighed again. "I have no idea. I'm at my place," I told her.

I could practically see her roll her eyes. "When you left—did he do anything?"

"Like what?" I asked, narrowing my eyes at my ceiling. I had lied back on my bed.

She paused and then said, "Nothing. He said it was only his head hurting."

I gave a frustrated grunt. "What aren't you telling me, Sandra?" I asked her.

"It's nothing, Purdy," she said coldly. Then she said, in a more pleasant voice, "Class is about to start. I've gotta go." And she hung up.

I mumbled a curse and dropped my phone on my bed. Sandra was a nice girl, but sometimes she could be a bitch by keeping information. She couldn't ask me a million questions and not ask one back at her. I shook my head and lied back down, turning onto my stomach and resting my chin on my hands. I shut my eyes, almost forcing my mind to shut itself off and go to sleep.

And gratefully, what felt like hours later, my subconscious took over and I fell asleep.

Andy Biersack

I remember waking up shortly and staring at my alarm clock, which read "10:00 AM". I remember groaning and rolling over, falling asleep again almost instantly. The next time I woke up, it was at nearly five PM, and it was to a quiet "clinking" noise on my window.

I ignored it at first; I didn't want to get up and disturb my head. But the clinking didn't stop, nor did it slow down. If anything, it became fore fervent. I yelled in frustration after nearly two minutes of it and got up, crossing to my window, ready to scream at whomever it was. When I saw Sandra, I flipped her the bird, and she rolled her eyes, welcoming herself into my house. I heard footsteps on my stairs, and then she opened my door and entered my home.

She took one look at me—I was swaying on my feet, glaring at her—and she dragged me by the elbow to my bed, sitting me down and sitting beside me.

"You didn't come to school today," she said, almost casually. I didn't reply, only staring at her through an angry gaze.

"I was coming to ask if you're alright," she snapped at me. I sighed and nodded.

I grumbled out a hoarse, "I'm perfectly fine."

She looked me up and down again and I answered her next question irritably, and with a lie. "I'm fine, Sandra—and yes, I've eaten today."

She didn't look convinced but she didn't argue against it. "I figured you'd rather me come over than Ashley Purdy," she said. I narrowed my eyes at her, urging her to continue. She said, "He wouldn't leave me alone today. Once I got at school, he was asking if I'd talked to you. Then he asked if you were going to be in PE. Then he asked why you were such a wuss—" She cut off, lips curling in a smile to tell me she was joking. I rolled my eyes and shook my head.

In a gravelly voice, I muttered out, "You're a bitch, Alva." She socked me in the arm playfully and I smirked at her again. Then she sighed. "The guys also wouldn't shut up about band practice. I told them you were sick, and might not be able to make it this weekend, but they still wouldn't shut it." She rolled her eyes.

More seriously, she looked me over. With a frown, she said, "Was your head really hurting when you left yesterday?"

I contemplated giving her a sarcastic reply but thought better of it. She was genuinely worried for me—I should at least give her a straight answer. "I left because I felt like you all were suffocating me. But yes, to answer your question, my head was hurting."

I looked straight into her eyes and she was the first to turn away. She shook her head, almost sadly. "I'm worried about you, Andy," she admitted. "You're not eating—and don't deny it; you know it's true. And don't think I haven't noticed that you never are without a jacket, long sleeves, or bracelets." Her eyes flickered to my wrists. I self-consciously crossed my arms across my chest and looked away from her. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

"I'm just worried. You left yesterday and you were disoriented and lightheaded. And then Purdy calls me in the middle of class and tells me he drove you home? I had good reason to be concerned."

I lied back down on my side and looked up at her. "I love you, Sandra," I began. "You're my best friend. But my life is my life. You should think about your life and not let mine ruin it." She stared at me for nearly thirty seconds after I said that and I could practically see her thoughts running rampant through her mind. First she was shocked; then, angry. And finally, she gave up.

"Andy, I love you, too; you're _my_ best friend. And that being said, it's hard for me to _not _worry about you. I won't stop worrying, either. But I'll try to stop… bothering you about it." She shook her head one final time and stood up. "I'll leave you to go to sleep. Call or text me when you get back up, alright?" she asked.

I nodded. "Hey, Sandra?" I called when she exited my room and started down the stairs. She turned back and poked her head in my doorway. I said awkwardly, "Tell Purdy that I don't need him worrying about me. I'm a big boy; I can take care of myself." She nodded slowly, a smirk playing on her features, and walked back down the staircase.

When I tried to go back to sleep, I found that it had abandoned me. I tossed and turned my body, burying and unburying my head with various pillows and blankets, and even grabbed my old stuffed giraffe and held it close to me, but sleep simply refused to cooperate with me anymore. Eventually, I gave up and lied there with my head buried underneath several pillows. I rested my eyes and attempted to calm my mind of its thoughts. I also tried to ignore the pains that currently possessed my stomach. Every time my stomach growled, I felt as though I was going to be sick. After a while, I grew frustrated to the point that I grabbed my iPod and put my headphones it to escape the noises.

I don't remember exactly when I fell asleep, except I remember my mother coming in and waking me up for school. She pulled the blankets off of me and said, "Andy, get up; your free pass is up, and you've got to get ready for school." I groaned at her before standing up—the pain in my head had subsided to a dull ache—and pulling on a clean pair of jeans, a Batman shirt, and a leather jacket. I slipped on a pair of converses, knowing that they'd be better off than my boots. I finally settled for only putting on eyeliner, not bothering with a full face, and running a hand through my hair.

I got to school with only a few minutes to spare. The band was there, along with Matt, Sandra, Sammi, and Ella, Jake's girlfriend from the UK. I waved at them but remained quiet, standing beside Sandra.

Matt was the first to talk. "Hey, man, I'm sorry about the day before…" he began.

I shrugged. "I didn't feel too good," I said blandly. "I didn't feel too great yesterday either. I wasn't mad at you or anything." He nodded and continued his discussion with Jake and Jinxx. Ella and Sammi were talking to each other, glancing at their boyfriends and giggling every now and then, and they both waved at me with a smile.

Then I felt a pair of eyes on me, and I looked around with a frown. Then I began glaring at the chocolate eyes of Ashley, and I flipped him the bird before turning my back to him and looking back at my friends.

And then the bell rang, and every student began filing towards their classes. I sighed and walked with Matt, Sandra, and CC to our class and we all entered quietly. The lights were off and the TV was on and I could hear Matt cheering quietly because he could sleep peacefully again. Sandra rolled her eyes at him and resumed her talk of music with CC until the teacher called the class to attention.

"Alright, class," she began. Her eyes rolled over each student, lingering on me for what felt like too long. "It's the last week before finals. I'd rather you all study, but since I know none of you will, we're watching a movie." She pressed "Play" on the DVD and some meaningless, G-rated movie started playing. I rolled my eyes and rested my head in my arms.

I felt a tap on my shoulder though. I ignored it at first, pretending I didn't feel it, but it continued. Every ten seconds or so, the tapping would resume and stop, only to repeat again. I raised my head after approximately a minute of it and saw dark brown eyes staring at me.

"Fuck," I murmured. Glaring at Purdy, I snapped a whispered, "What do you want?"

He shrugged. "Wanted to know you were okay, that's all," he told me. He looked around and then pulled a stool beside me, sitting down. I raised an eyebrow at him coldly. Again, he shrugged.

He said, "You have three days left of this week, including today—three days left to dress out and play volleyball. Whether you want to or not, we're partners. We've got to associate."

I narrowed my eyes at him. "Why, I didn't realize we were married!" I said sarcastically.

"Shut it, Biersack," he warned. This time, I shrugged and rested my head in my arms again. He sighed. "I'll say it again: I don't hate you. I don't _know_ you." He looked away at the TV and folded his arms across his chest, leaning back in the chair.

I glanced at him and took him in. If I were to be honest with myself, I couldn't say I hated him. I was angry with him, but I didn't hate him. _I _didn't know _him_, either. Slowly, I sat up and turned to him. I gritted my teeth once more before I relaxed my jaw and looked into his eyes.

"I don't know you either," I admitted forcefully.

One side of his mouth curled up into a smirk and he held his hand out. "Well, I'm Ashley Purdy," he said.

I took his hand slowly and shook it. "Andy Biersack," I said, feeling foolish. I dropped his hand almost immediately and turned back towards the front of the classroom. I saw, out of the corner of my eye, him nodding and facing the front, too, a small smile on his face.

The rest of class passed by in a blur. Ashley and I didn't talk any more, and the bell rang shortly after our "greeting". My next two classes, English and Social Studies, passed by even faster. I spent a majority of the two hours sitting in my desk, drawing on my paper and thinking idly about various subjects, some of them about the band, some about Scout, and some about Sandra. Then, in what felt like minutes, I found myself standing before the gym doors, feeling apprehensive about entering the room.

I walked in slowly, walking towards the dressing room even slower. I kept wanting to tell Coach "Sorry, just fail me; I can't do this", but I knew I had only three days left, and then it would all be over.

Most of the guys were already out of the dressing room, so it was a blessing that I was one of the only guys in there. There were a few of the other so-called geeks, and then there was me. I changed quickly. I wanted it to be over as soon as possible. After putting my converses back on my feet, I left the room and moved towards Ashley, who was waving me over from the far side of the gym, and two other guys who I'd seen him hang with sometimes.

When I stood with them, he told me, "We're passing the ball within groups of four." I nodded silently. Ashley turned towards the two other guys and nodded towards me. They both sighed and turned to me.

"I'm Dahvie," said the shorter of the two.

The taller one said, simply, "Jayy Von Monroe."

They looked as equally uncomfortable as I felt. Ashley had to have realized that, but he ignored it. Or he was just incredibly slow. Regardless, he passed the ball to the short one—Dahvie—then he passed it to me, and I passed it to the taller guy—Jayy.

It was incredibly awkward. Only Dahvie and Jayy spoke, and it was to each other. They would occasionally glance over at Ashley and me, but would never say more than two or three words to us.

Finally, Ashley cleared his throat. "So, Andy," he said. "How long have you lived here?"

I rolled my eyes at him. "My whole life," I said shortly, passing the ball to him.

"Oh," was all he replied.

"Yeah," I muttered, underneath my breath.

Silence engulfed us again. Then, surprisingly, Jayy looked at me and said, "Do you like music?"

Confusedly, I nodded. He smiled at me—and even I had to admit: he had a gorgeous smile.

Dahvie began to laugh but settled down quickly. "Let me guess… rock music?"

I nodded again, but defensively this time. Then Jayy said, "Hey, we like it too."

"Yeah, we just prefer techno, you know?" Dahvie added. He crossed his eyes at me, emphasizing his bright red eyes. He also fluffed up his hair and grinned at me. I briefly smiled back, only for a second, and then I glanced at Ashley, who was looking at me.

Dahvie looked at us again and then told me, "I've heard you're in a band. Is it true?"

I nodded, passing the ball to Jayy, who asked, "What's it called?"

I shrugged. "We don't have a name yet."

They both nodded and then Dahvie said, with a grin, "Just don't use Blood on the Dance Floor, alright? We claim it."

I found myself grinning at them both and even chuckled at them. "You two have a band?"

Jayy shrugged. "We're a two-man band," he said.

Dahvie nodded. Then he asked, "Who all's in your band?"

I sighed. "Myself, obviously; I'm the vocals. Jake Pitts is our lead guitarist, and Jinxx is our other guitarist and violinist. We've got Christian Coma on drums," I told him.

The, surprisingly, Ashley spoke. "What about a bassist?" he asked.

I shook my head. "We haven't got one yet. I play enough to write out music for the songs and play some for practice, but not enough to actually play it full time."

Jayy looked at Ashley. "Don't you play, man?" he asked.

I looked at him just in time to see him shrug. I also heard Dahvie snort at him and laugh. Ashley, however, appeared to be blushing and he held the volleyball in his hands after I passed it to him and then he said, "We're good for today, I'd say. Let's go change." He turned on his heel and started telling the other guys to finish up.

Jayy and Dahvie stood on either side of me as we entered the locker room. They were laughing at Ashley's obvious discomfort and didn't hesitate to laugh harder when he entered the dressing room.

When I walked towards the bathroom stalls to change, I heard Dahvie yell after me, "Get over here and change, Biersack. We don't bite!" I actually laughed aloud when I heard him add, "Not hard, anyways." I turned right back around and walked towards them, albeit slowly, and changed, feeling only slightly awkward. But I loosened up around the strange guys before me, and finished changing five minutes later.

Shortly after, the bell rang. I collected my bag and left for my next class, in the company of Ashley. We didn't talk, though, and we instantly separated when we reached our math class. I had, for the first time, beaten both Sandra and Jinxx to the room and so I sat at our usual table, resting my head on my knuckles.

Finally, one minute later, Jinxx slipped in and sunk into his seat. He muttered to me, "Sandra won't come today. I don't know why, but she won't. I was gonna skip until I remembered I have class with you."

I nodded. Why wasn't Sandra coming? If she had been sick, she would've told me… wouldn't she? But I shook it off, and continued on with my classes.


	4. Heartbreak and Relapse

***Trigger warning**

* * *

During lunch, I asked CC, who was second closest to Sandra, if he had heard anything from her. He shook his head and, after swallowing a mouthful of food, he said, "Nah; haven't seen her since this morning. She texted me and said she wasn't feeling too good, though."

I frowned at that. I pulled my phone out and dialed her number; I made sure I was careful to keep from being seen by the teachers. She picked up after the second ring.

"Andy?" she asked, her voice sounding as though she'd been crying.

I said shortly, "Sandra, are you okay? You sound—"

She cut me off with, "Like my nose is stocked up?" She paused and I heard her blow her nose on the other end of the line. I rolled my eyes but dropped it. She was speaking again. "I came home. You must've gotten me sick or something."

I shut my eyes. "Alright, fine, but I don't believe you. Just call me if you need anything, okay?" I told her.

"Yeah, of course," she replied. Then she said a small, "Bye", and hung up.

I put my phone away slowly feeling mystified. Then I heard two voices calling my name. I looked up to see Jayy and Dahvie waving at me. When I waved back, they motioned for me to join them. I held up a finger at them and looked at my friends. "I'll be back," I told them. I got a few nods, and then stood and walked towards the two guys.

"What's up?!" Dahvie exclaimed.

I grinned at him. "Just walking around with you two," I told him.

Jayy walked to my other side and nodded his head towards the table I'd just left. "Are those your bandmates?" he asked.

I contemplated for a second, and then I nodded. "Yeah, they are—some of them, anyways. The guy with the red-haired girl is Jinxx. The one with the English girl is Jake. CC is the one who's always acting stoned."

Dahvie grinned. "CC's pretty cool; I've got a few classes with him."

Jayy nodded. Then he said, "Who are those chicks who always are with you?"

I raised an eyebrow at him. "Well, there's Sammi, the redhead, and she's Jinxx's girlfriend. There's Ella, the English girl, and she's Jake's girlfriend. There's Sandra, my best friend, and Scout, my girlfriend."

Dahvie suddenly stopped and stared at me. "Scout Taylor-Compton?" he asked. "That Scout?"

I nodded, and he exchanged glances with Jayy. But neither seemed pleased to hear that she and I were together. Finally, I had to ask, "What it is?"

Jayy sighed and grabbed me by the arm, and he tugged me out of the room we were in, down an empty hallway, and into a smaller hallway. We stopped right outside of an old classroom. Dahvie got on his toes and looked through the window on the door, and he nodded at Jayy. Then Jayy pushed me to the door and I saw Scout—and Ashley Purdy—inside the room. They were joined at the lips, and she was practically in his lap.

I looked in long enough to see that they weren't separating any time soon. I looked away and back up slowly, and looked at Jayy and Dahvie.

"So," I said, feeling strangely numb. "Scout's cheating on me… with Ashley Purdy. That's just wonderful," I said sarcastically. Jayy moved closer to me and put a hand on my shoulder.

"I'm sorry, man," he told me.

Dahvie nodded. "I doubt you want to hear it, but I, uh, crossed upon them about a month ago. They make out almost every day during lunch, except when she was with you the other day."

I nodded. I felt empty all of a sudden; sort of hallow and cold. I felt Jayy hug me shortly, and then Dahvie, too, and they both apologized. I shrugged it off, though.

I looked at them both. "Just bear in mind that it won't be my fault if he suddenly in punched in the mouth during class tomorrow," I told them. Then I shook my head and began to walk away. "I think I'll skip the rest of today. If it isn't too much of a hassle, could you tell Matt or someone I usually hang with?"

When they both nodded, I turned my back of them and left, the second time that week. I nearly ran to my car in the parking lot, and drove away as fast as I could without getting pulled over. I made it to my house in record time and entered, heading straight towards my bedroom.

I was an idiot! I thought immediately. Scout was gorgeous, and she was "popular". I was stupid—stupid for ever believing her when she told me she loved me. I was stupid and an idiot for never piecing it all together.

Because now, everything made sense: Ashley's reaction to hearing she was my girlfriend, _Scout's_ reaction to when I told her he'd driven me home. Did anybody else know? Did she tell anyone else about it all?

Suddenly, I thought of my razor. I tried to expel the thought instantly; I'd been one month clean of self-harm. I didn't want to break that… _but then why did I keep the blade? _I found myself wondering. I crossed my room to my closet, pulling my blade from the farthest corner. As if I were in a trance, I pulled my sleeves and bracelets up from my left wrist. In my right hand, my blade was trembling. I bit my cheek as I cut a line across my wrist, and cut over it, two, three, four, five times. I cut a fresh line farther up along my arm, deeper this time, blood welling up faster. I cut a third line, even deeper than the previous two, gritting my teeth against the stinging feeling. I did this long enough to give up on counting after ten.

Finally, I put the blade back in its spot in my closet. I walked to my bathroom, grabbing two dark towels and, after wetting one of them, I cleaned the blood from my arm. I grabbed the second one and pressed it against my fresh wounds and walked back to my bedroom, finally beginning to feel again

But what I felt was guilt. I'd told Sandra that I would quit. I _promised_ her I'd quit. And there I sat, staring at the wall opposite me, holding a towel on my bleeding arm. I knew I should call her, or text her, or something, but I felt as though I'd been frozen. It was as though I were trapped inside my mind.

I curled onto my side, though, and squeezed my eyes shut. More than ever, I wanted to block the week's events from my mind. I didn't want to have talked to Ashley in the first place. I didn't want to reencounter talking with Scout during lunch. If there was anything I actually wanted to remember, it would be meeting Jayy and Dahvie, even if they were a large reason as to why I was now in my current situation.

With great effort, I managed to shut my brain off long enough to fall sleep, one that was blessedly deep and dreamless.

I would've given just about anything to keep from going to school. I fought the urge to grab my blade again, but it was hard. I was careful in what kind of outfit I wore, but tried to be subtle in wearing long sleeves with a jacket in the springtime. I settled on a casual black Henley and a Nightmare Before Christmas hoodie.

It was even harder to walk onto school grounds and see Scout with Sandra and the guys. Almost reluctantly, I turned to the other side of where I was standing, and I saw Jayy and Dahvie talking amongst them. I slowly walked over and joined them.

"Hey," Dahvie said.

"Hey," I replied, crossing my arms on my chest self-consciously.

Jayy nodded in greeting. "What's up?" he asked.

I shrugged at him.

His eyes flickered to Scout and said, "If you want someone to talk to her… I can do it for you."

I sighed. "As much as I appreciate that, I couldn't. I'll talk to her later."

It was at that moment that Ashley decided to show up. I looked at him, then at Dahvie and Jay and then back to Ashley, and I said, "You, though. I'll talk to you know."

Jayy looked between us and he said. "Want us to leave?" I shrugged. Ashley was staring at me, and I at him while Dahvie and Jayy creeped away.

"What's up?" he asked me carefully.

I glanced at Scout, who now was watching the two of us. She wasn't making any moves towards us, though. I looked back at Ashley. "I know about you two," I said slowly.

If he reacted at all, he kept it hidden. He asked, "What? I don't know what you're talking about."

Letting my frustration get the better of me, I got closer to his face. "You know damn well what I'm talking about, Purdy," I hissed. "The guys showed me you and Scout in the classroom yesterday."

Slowly, he dropped his confused mask. "I want it known," he began, "That _she_ came to _me_. I had no intentions to go after her." He looked at me straight in the eyes as he spoke.

Yet I was still angry. I couldn't decipher my feelings. Was I jealous? Regretful? Happy that he at least admitted to it? Why was my chest aching? I shook the thoughts and questions from my head, though.

"Then why did you do it?" I countered.

He looked over my shoulder, no doubt at Scout. But then he grabbed my arm and led me away from everybody. He finally stopped inside the nearest hallway, right beside where we previously were standing, and let go of me.

"Why did I?" he repeated. "I don't know. I honestly don't. I figured she'd be fun. She came up to me and I said yes because she was hot and she'd be fun. There was no other reason." He held up one finger and counted it off. "I didn't do it because I like her." He counted off another finger. "I didn't do it because I wanted to—to make you jealous." He dropped his hands.

I glared at him though, feeling angry and… jealous? Was I jealous of Ashley? No, I couldn't be; I already had Scout. I her before he did. And yet, my chest was aching and my head was confused.

"Just… you can make out or do whatever you want with her all you please. I'm going to end it between us," I said. That seemed to be the best idea that I had.

He, however, appeared to disagree. "Well, shit, man!" he exclaimed. "_I don't like her_. Not in that way. Maybe not in _any_ way. Besides, I planned on ending it with her anyways. If we do it at the same time, she'll get suspicious."

"I don't care!" I blew up at him. "I don't want to be with her anymore. Yeah, she's my girlfriend—soon to be ex-girlfriend—but she doesn't know a damned thing about me. Maybe I fucking loved her, but I didn't love her enough to tell her half the shit going on in my life! And I won't 'put it off' because you're afraid she'll get fucking suspicious!" I quieted down after that and stood there, breathing heavily.

He stared at me and had a look of curiosity on his face. He opened his mouth and out came a shockingly quiet, "Does anyone know half of that shit?"

I glared at him harder than before and turned my back on him. "Just leave me alone, Purdy," I called out to him from over my shoulder. I walked towards my class, which had already begun, entering without a word and putting my head on my desk immediately after I sat down, ignoring Matt and CC's attempts at a conversation.

How in the hell could he get under my skin so easily? I'd only known him for a total of three days. And yet, he was already thoroughly pissing me off and causing me to be beyond angry. He was responsible for my urge to punch somebody in the face. I clutched my hands together and held them that way underneath my desk for nearly the entire class period, not resting them until the bell rang forty minutes later.

I stiffly rose from my seat and walked grudgingly towards my next class, feeling somewhat sick. I wasn't sick in the sense that I was going to upchuck something, but sick in the sense that I couldn't figure anything out. I kept thinking about Ashley. The way he sounded when he asked if anybody knew the things going on with me…. He sounded like he cared. But how could he? We didn't know each other. We barely ever got along. I wanted to punch him nearly every time we spoke.

And yet he sounded like he genuinely cared. He even sounded _gentle_, for God's sake. He sounded as though he actually cared about me and my problems. And what was more confusing for me was that_ I_ cared what he thought of me.

I entered my class in a daze, sitting down slowly. I didn't like Ashley Purdy. But when I tried to figure out why I didn't like him, I couldn't think of any legitimate reasons. Yeah, Scout cheated on me with him, but I didn't like him before that. Was it _because_ he cared that I didn't like him? No, it couldn't be; I didn't hate Sandra, and she cares about me. Was it because he had everything I wished I had—popularity, acceptance? It was a possibility, but I couldn't say that it was the reason.

I squeezed my eyes shut and dropped my head onto my desk. This was just too confusing. I knew I didn't like him, but I didn't know _why_ I didn't like him. Does that even make sense? I found myself asking. It didn't to me. Maybe he was one of those people that I just didn't like—one of those people who, regardless of what they're like, I didn't get along with or like whatsoever. But it still didn't make sense, because I knew that we _could've _been friends.

Maybe it was only because of the whole Scout-was-cheating-on-me thing that I didn't like him. I mean, it was reason enough, wasn't it? I knew it definitely had _something_ to do with my current feelings towards him.

Finally, the bell rang again. I sighed, though, because now it was time to go to PE, and deal with Ashley. But I quickly reminded myself that I now had some friends in the class: Dahvie and Jayy. That thought alone was the reason that I even stood and walked towards the gym. I saw them both headed towards the dressing room, and I jogged over and greeted them.

"Hey," Jayy said to me.

"What's up?" I asked. We entered the room and began to chance.

"Nothing, really," he answered. "We've been pretty boring, I guess."

I nodded as I pulled my shirt on over my head. Just as I started pulling my hoodie back on, Dahvie looked at me worriedly. "Are you really okay with the whole Purdy thing?"

I nodded again, absently this time. "I'm fine. I've just got a lot on my mind."

"Well, you know," he said, "you can always talk to us." His eyes—electric blue today—looked concerned.

I gave them both a tiny smile. "I know," I said. "Then I slipped my shoes on and walked with them out of the locker-room and onto the gym floor. Ashley joined us around a minute later. His eyes and mine met for a second before he looked away. I thought I saw shame in them. Good, I thought.

"We're doing the same thing we did yesterday. Just passing it between groups," he said, slightly awkwardly. Then he hit the ball to Dahvie, who hit it to me. I hit it to Jayy.

"So," Jayy said. He trailed off awkwardly glancing at Dahvie for support.

So Dahvie looked at me with a grin. "Wanna hear part of the song we're working on?" he asked.

Intrigued, I said, "Sure," and he and Jayy both grinned.

Jayy took a deep breath and began singing, "_You've got me bewitched, 'cause I'm under your spell._"

Dahvie sang, "_Whoa_."

Jayy sang again, "_You must be a witch, 'cause I am living in Hell._"

"_Now is the time, now is the hour. I am the magic, I am the power, oh,_" sang Dahvie. "_All I need is one star in the sky, wish for you every night._"

They finished singing and I looked at them curiously. "Not my general type of music," I admitted, "but that was pretty awesome."

They grinned at me. Then Dahvie said, "Now you sing! We want to hear your voice."

I rolled my eyes but thought of a song. Then I opened my mouth. "_We're all told that when we die, we leave to a better place. And all I know is what you left: a love I can't erase._" I grinned at the looks on their faces. "_All the same in love and war, burn my name and ashes scorn._"

They all began clapping—Ashley included.

"Your voice…" Dahvie began.

Jay finished for him, "is awesome."

I, again, rolled my eyes, and I tossed the volleyball back to Jayy.

But then Coach came over towards us. "Biersack," he barked. He pulled me aside and dragged the back of his hand across his forehead. "Andrew," he began again. "You're excused from the rest of class today. Go dress back into your clothes. I'll explain everything after." Then he practically pushed me into the locker room.

Ashley was nearly thrown in there a few seconds later. I ignored him as best I could. We left within seconds of each other, and Coach led us out of the gym and walked towards the hallway.

Finally, Ashley asked, "Where are we going?"

Coach stopped and shook his head, almost desperately. "Your friend, Sandra…. She's in the hospital. They'll explain when you get there." We finally reached the front of the school, where we were ushered into a car.

Sandra was in the hospital? No… it didn't make sense. I always figured_ I'd_ be the one to end up in the hospital, not Sandra. _I_ was the one with all of the issues_. I_ was the screw-up… not her.

"Is she okay?" I found myself asking the man who was driving the car. He only shrugged and gave us both a sympathetic look before turning back to the road.

I tried to convince myself that I was overreacting. It was perfectly possible that she simply hit her head on something and got a concussion. But if something like that had happened, they would've have excused me from class.

Finally, the car stopped. I sat, still frozen, until Ashley grabbed me by the shoulder and pulled me out of the seat. We both were escorted into the hospital b the man who drove us there. Feeling self-conscious, I pulled my sleeves over my hands and stuffed them in my pockets. Then we were taken to a room in the Intensive Care ward—and my fear for Sandra multiplied.

The room we were taken to was fairly close to the entry way to the ward. When we finally made it there, I saw Sandra on the hospital bed, looking tired and a little sickly. She was awake though. When she saw us, she had a look of such sadness cross her face that it almost hurt. But I walked towards her and sat in the chair directly to her right.

"Sandra…" I began. She looked down at her hands. "What happened?"

I heard her take a deep breath—or try to. Her breath caught in her throat. But if she cried, she hid the tears expertly. "I tried…" But I couldn't hear the rest of it. She tried again, a little louder. "I tried to kill myself."

I almost didn't process it. It went right past me, but then it actually hit me. I knew of nothing else to do except grab her hand. "Why?" I murmured.

She turned to me and I saw unushed tears in her eyes. She wiped at them before they even had a chance of falling, though. Breathing in short gasps, she bowed her head and squeezed her eyes shut. Without thinking twice about it, I got up and sat on the bed beside her, pulling her into my arms. She didn't cry, and instead curled up into me.

"Can I tell you later?" she asked quietly.

"Of course," I said, holding her tighter.

Then I suddenly remembered Ashley. He moved from the doorway to the seat opposite where I previously sat. His face was pale, if just barely, and he looked shaken. In a voice barely above a whisper, he asked, "Are you feeling any better now?"

She turned to him and I saw her attempt to smile. "I think… I'll be… I don't know." She ended with her lower lip trembling and she buried her face in my chest again. "I just hurt," she mumbled.

I met Ashley's eyes and I saw a sadness in them that was almost as painful to see as Sandra's sadness. This time, I was the one to look away first. But only to release Sandra and say, "We'll be right back, okay?" I stood up when I saw her nod, and I motioned for Ashley to follow me.

I stopped outside of the door and shut it after him. Then I faced him head on. "I'm sorry," I said simply.

But he shook his head. "_You're_ sorry? No,_ I_ should be sorry. I didn't even think about what would've happened if you found out."

I didn't hear it though. "Ashley, I've been…" I struggled to find the right word, and then said, "… struggling with some issues. I'm apologizing for being an ass. I don't know if I forgive you just yet for what you did, but I'm just saying I'm sorry for not even hearing you out."

He looked at me intently and I did nothing more than stare back. And then he nodded. "We all have our issues, Andy, and it's none of my business if you choose to keep them to yourself, but you need to tell somebody. I know I'd probably be your last choice—you'd probably go to a friend or whoever—but just know that I'm here, okay?"

I felt something tighten in my chest after hearing his words, something that nearly made my eyes water and made my heart ache. I hadn't realized until that moment that that's what I had wanted: somebody to talk to. I wanted somebody I could tell all of my issues. I would usually have gone to Sandra first, as he pointed out, or maybe Matt, but now, it seemed out of the question, especially since Sandra told me she tried to_ kill_ herself…. I'll be there for her; I won't lay my problems on top of her own.

I looked into his eyes for another few seconds and contemplated telling him what was going on. I, in the end, decided against it, though. I told him, "I appreciate it; I really do. But not right now—not when I have to be here for Sandra."

He nodded and looked back in her room. I looked back, too. She was leaning backwards, staring at the ceiling, and she was messing with her nail's cuticles. I sighed and shut my eyes. "I didn't even know she felt like this," I admitted to him.

"I'm not sure anybody did," he replied. Then he said, "Go back to her. She looks like she needs her bestfriend."

I opened my eyes and nodded, walking back to my spot beside Sandra. I sat close to her and put my arms around her again, and she leaned against my chest. I noticed dimly that Ashley didn't follow me into the room, and instead left me and Sandra alone.

And then Sandra cleared her throat. "Andy… I need to tell you something."

I nodded. Trying to sound as calm and gentle as possible, I said, "I think you need to, too."

Her breathing was becoming more and more uneven and I knew she was having trouble getting out what she needed to say. I added, "Take as much time as you need, Sandra. I don't plan on leaving until they kick me out."

I felt her nod and she began to calm down, if just barely. Then she said, in a voice barely above a whisper, "You would never hate me, right?"

I looked down at her to see her eyes shining with liquid. I furrowed my brows and said in an utterly serious voice, "I wouldn't care if you told me you had webbed feet and an elephant's trunk. You're my bestfriend; nothing will change that."

She swallowed and I saw a lone tear escape one of her eyes. I wiped it away and she said, "I'm gay, Andy." Slowly, more tears leaked from her eyes.


	5. Feelings

I looked at her and, after nearly an entire minute, I pulled her closer to me in a hug. "Why didn't you just tell me?" I asked sadly.

She attempted to take a deep breath, choking a bit on a cry. "I didn't know if you would've understood."

I nodded and began to run soothing patterns on her shoulder. Quietly, I asked her, "How long have you known?"

She shook her head. "I've been… confused for around a year now. But CC asked me out the other day and I just knew." She tried to hide her face in my chest, and I allowed her to. I rested my chin on her head and continued to try and soothe her as much as possible.

"I know you wouldn't do this," she said, "but just in case somebody asks… can you not tell anybody? I don't want people knowing anything about, well, anything."

I nodded and said a quiet, "I wouldn't tell a soul unless you told me to do so directly."

I heard her laugh a little bit and I smiled. I was confident that she was feeling at least somewhat better than before, and that was better than anything—except my own issues kept threatening to burst from my mouth, which they were doing.

I took a deep breath. "Sandra, you know how you always tell me to tell you everything that's bothering me?" I began slowly.

She took herself out of my arms and faced me. "Of course," she answered, sounding more like herself. "What's going on?"

I shut my eyes, wondering where to begin. Then I opened my eyes, and I said, deciding to get it out of the way, "Scout's been cheating on me."

Her eyed widened and put a hand to her mouth. "No," she said simply.

I blinked hard, trying to just get it out of my mouth. "I found out yesterday. And Sandra… I broke my promise to you."

This time, I was the one to hang my head. I felt disgusted with myself, but this time it was different. It was a self-hatred because I broke the one promise I swore to myself I'd keep. I absentmindedly took my right hand and fussed with my sleeves on my left arm.

"Andy," Sandra said. She sounded as though she was upset, but she said my name in a comforting manor at the same time. I looked up and this time, I had tears in _my_ eyes. Carefully, never moving her eyes from mine, she reached for my arm and, when I nodded, she pulled the sleeves back. I had to look away from the not-quite-day-old cuts. I felt sick.

She took a hand and put it to her mouth, but not before I saw the trembling of her lower lip. She eased the sleeve back down and placed her head in her hands.

"I'm so sorry, Andy," she said in a faint voice.

I shook my head. "I tried not to; I really did," I said weakly. But I knew it was pointless.

Then she asked, "Who exactly was she cheating on you with?"

"Ashley Purdy," I said tiredly. I looked at the door, and felt satisfied when I didn't see the guy standing outside.

"How did you find out?" she asked, her eyes wide and disbelieving.

"Do you know Dahvie and Jayy?" I asked, and she nodded. "They told me… and I saw them." I sighed and shut my eyes for a few seconds. When I opened them up again, I was surprised to find Ashley had moved to right outside the doorway.

"He and I talked about it, Sandra," I told her quietly. "We're on alright-terms now."

Extremely slowly, she nodded, and then Ashley entered the room. It took only a second before he realized that I'd told her. Then he said, as if to reassure her, "We talked about it." And he didn't say another word on the subject.

Sandra sat beside me and she grabbed my hand again. She also absentmindedly began tracing small patterns on my left arm, which both calmed me down and made me feel skittish. But she didn't quit, and she didn't slow or sleep up. I glanced at Ashley, who I was surprised to see was looking at me. He looked at me until I felt myself come close to blushing.

I stayed with Sandra for nearly five hours. During that time I did nearly everything in my power to cheer her up, to make her smile. I even had Ashley take the car that we arrived in to my house and pick up my guitar, and then I sang and played Sandra's favourite songs. I also gave her a sample of the songs I'd written, and she helped me to find the drum rhythms for them. We slipped through the TV channels and played the shows on mute while we gave our own commentary for them. At six PM, though, the nurses said that she needed to be left alone. I said a quiet goodbye to her, and I told her to call me for anything. Then Ashley and I left the hospital in the car we came in.

From beside me, he asked, "Did she talk to you about why she did it?"

I shrugged. I didn't want to say too much, but I knew he was curious. "Yes, she did," I said, "but it isn't my business to tell you." I said it simply, not hatefully or angrily. He nodded.

Then, he not-so-subtly changed the subject. "Are you and Jayy close?"

"I guess so. Why?" I asked him.

This time, he shrugged. "I was going to ask if you knew he was gay." He raised an eyebrow at me.

I stared at him for a second before shrugging. "So what if he is? I'm not."

Suddenly the car stopped and we opened our door to see the entryway of my home. I got out and walked up the steps, giving a half-ass, awkward wave to Ashley before they drove off.

What would it matter if Jayy was gay? It didn't matter at all, because_ I_ wasn't gay. I never once have had "romantic feelings" toward another guy… except I do think Jayy's got a gorgeous smile. And now that I think about it, Ashley's not bad looking, either.

Damn him, I though immediately after that. Damn him straight to hell.

I wasn't gay… was I? I couldn't be gay. I've never loved a guy, ever. I was allowed to think guys had nice smiles or nice muscles, wasn't I? I mean, girls were allowed to think that way about other girls and still be straight.

But first I had to help Sandra. She _was_ gay, and she obviously has been struggling with it. If I'm going to deal with my own crisis, I need to help her first. But then again, she may be the perfect person to tell. I know she wouldn't judge me for several reasons: she is my bestfriend, and she is also gay.

However, I was feeling so tired all of a sudden that I couldn't keep my eyes open. I kicked my shoes off and curled up on my bed.

The last thing I thought before I finally fell asleep would have been unsettling, had I not been near unconsciousness. I thought, maybe I might be gay.

Ashley Purdy

Why did I let that slip out? "I was going to ask if you knew he was gay"…. Way to practically make a neon sign and plaster it on my forehead. I might as well have screamed to him that I thought he was beautiful, that his eyes were amazing, and that he looked hot when he was angry.

I wasn't gay, necessarily. But I did like Andy, and I couldn't deny that. I wasn't gay though; I didn't like guys that way, except for with him. I may have had sex with guys when I was so drunk I couldn't think properly, but I didn't care about them that way. I didn't have about half of the girls I had sex with either.

But Andy…. He was an ass, yes. He most likely hated me, too. But he was good looking, and he was… fiery. But he also was caring and loving. He had an attitude, but something told me it was only used when he was frustrated or scared.

The most confusing of it all, though, was that I wanted to get to know him. I wanted to make him happy, to please him. And I'd ever felt that towards anyone.

I couldn't believe what I felt. I knew it all like I knew the back of my hand, but I didn't want to believe it. Vaguely, I laughed to myself. I'm actually in denial, I thought, I don't want to believe I'm actually gay.

But I know I am. Just because I've slept with every girl at school, that doesn't mean they actually meant anything to me. Truth be told, they really _weren't_ anything to me. They were just sex, as bad as it was to admit. But I've also been with guys, I reminded myself. I've been with Jayy.

He's who I should talk to, I thought at once. He and I were still friends, despite our one-night-drunken-stand. He was gay; he'd understand.

I got up quickly and reached for my car keys. I headed towards my car and didn't even think twice as I put the car into drive and headed towards Jayy's home. When I got there, I exited the car and went to his front door, and I knocked and rang the doorbell.

"Dammit!" I heard from the inside. Then the door opened and Dahvie stood in front of me, wearing a wrinkled tank top. Jayy was behind him, shirtless.

Oh yeah; they live together now.

I cleared my throat. I kinda have to talk to Jayy," I said.

Dahvie sighed and shrugged, looking back at Jayy. "We'll finish later," he murmured to him, and he got on his toes to kiss Jayy. I waited slightly impatiently. Then Jayy let me in and led me to him living room.

"What's going on?" he asked.

I've gotta get right to the point, I thought. Taking a deep breath, I said, "How did you know you were gay?"

He obviously didn't except that. He stared at me with wide eyes and a gaping mouth for a few seconds before answering me. "I don't even remember ever thinking anything different," he said. "I've always just liked guys."

I sighed and he seemed to pick up on a few things. "Are you maybe confused, Ashley?" he questioned.

I opened my eyes and tried to glare at him, but I couldn't. I shook my feeling, feeling denial yet again. "I don't know," I said honestly.

"Who is he, at least?" he asked.

_That _question, I couldn't answer. But it seemed to be enough for him. "Andy?" he asked incredulously. "That guy whose girlfriend you've been banging for a month now? Andy Biersack?"

"Fine!" I yelled. "Yes! I like Andy. I just don't know anything else."

He calmed down a bit. Then he said, "So you want to know how I know?"

I chewed on the inside of my cheek and I shook my head again. "I know it sounds crazy, but I had to ask. And I'm sorry about ruining your night with Dahvie…."

He shrugged. "You're more than welcome, Ashley. And at least you knocked first, before you came in."

I nodded. "Will I see you at school tomorrow?"

"Yeah. Oh, by the way, what happened today?" he asked.

"I'm not entirely sure," I said. "They told us to leave and see Sandra in the hospital. We literally just left, not fifteen minutes ago."

Jayy nodded. Then he stood up and I, following him, walked towards the front of his house. I said a short goodbye to Dahvie, who was in the kitchen. Jayy joined me at the front porch. He said, after several moments, "Are you going to tell him anything?" He didn't need to elaborate; I knew who he was referring to.

I shook my head. "I don't even know what to—to identify myself as. How can I tell him anything?"

But he, too, shook his head. "Labels are for soup cans, Ashley," he told me. "Just because I label myself and everybody else will label you doesn't mean you have to give yourself one."

I looked at Jayy for a few seconds, my head suddenly feeling clearer than it had been in days. "Thank you," I said quietly.


	6. In The Band

I was skipping my morning classes and going to see Sandra. I took my guitar and a laptop for her to use when I left. I woke up and drove to the hospital, wearing jeans and a hoodie, and eyeliner on my eyes. I got scared at, but I couldn't have cared less. I had to talk to her.

Thankfully, she was already awake. I attempted to smile at her in the doorway, but gave up. She knew something was wrong.

"Come here," she ordered. "What's wrong?"

I opened my mouth, and I shut it again. Then I opened it and I said, "I have no idea where to begin."

She nodded. "Take your time." And I did. It took me nearly a minute before I got the first sentence out.

"I'm confused," I said. She didn't reply, only nodded and waited for me to continue.

"I'm confused," I said again, "about Ashley Purdy."

At first she appeared confused, but then it dawned on her. I shut my eyes and buried my head in my arms.

"I think I might like him," I said, my voice coming out muffled. "But I can't be gay, can I? I've never been with a guy before or—or had feelings toward them. I usually want to hit them all in the face—including Ashley." I raised my head and silently begged Sandra with my eyes to understand. She was looking at me carefully, not appearing to be freaked out a big. Then she reached forward and took my hand.

"What is it about him that makes you think you might like him?" she asked.

I took a deep breath and sighed. "I don't know. He seems nice," I said, lamely. "I mean, he offered to be there for me if I didn't want to talk to you. He's been helping me since the beginning of the week. And he just seems like he cares." I looked back at her and asked, "How did you know you were gay?"

The edge of her mouth curved upwards in a crooked smile. "I've known for two years. I just… didn't like guys, I guess. I dated them, but I didn't like them. Then one of the girls who lives near me came by my house. She was supposedly bisexual, but I never talked to her. She asked if I would hang out, and I said 'sure'."

She paused, and I could see her smile grow sweeter, almost. "I can't entirely remember what all we talked about, but she asked me if she could kiss me, and she did."

I looked at her with confusion. She stared at something I couldn't see, most likely the memory of it all, but then she shook her head and looked back at me. "We haven't talked much since then, but I knew that that's what girls were talking about when they kissed guys—the butterflies, the nervousness. I knew I liked girls after that." She made a face, though. "It took me these past two years to accept it."

Slowly, I took a deep breath. I put my head in my hands. "I don't know if I like him or not," I said. "I just know that… I feel different… when I'm around him."

She squeezed her hand on mine and smiled at me. "Well, don't be afraid to talk to me," she told me. "I'm always here for you."

I sighed and gave her a small smile. Then I looked at the clock on her bed-side table and stifled another sigh. It was already nine o'clock, and I'd left at eight. I knew I'd have to leave for school soon.

Then she made a face at me. "I don't know if I can help you as much as I want to. In the end, it's your decision. I can't force you to think you are or aren't gay." She squeezed my hand reassuringly. "But at least you know that I'm always here for you."

I smiled at her, already feeling better. "Thank you, Sandra," I said.

She smiled at me, too. But then she sighed. "Shouldn't you be going to school?" she asked.

I frowned. "Probably… but I don't want to go. I want to stay with you today."

"I have no objections to that," she said with a laugh. Then she patted the spot next to her and I sat down with a sigh and a smile.

She took one look at me and, grinning, she picked up two pencils and began a pretend drum solo. I laughed and grabbed my guitar, figuring out random chords to play and making up random lyrics. They were complete nonsense, though, and we eventually ended up laughing so hard we couldn't breathe.

All in all, I felt much better and it was an amazing day. I knew I had to make up my school work, but I couldn't find it within me to care properly. I did leave, though, after a few hours. I left to gather my thoughts on the whole situation.

What if I honestly was gay? I asked myself. Part of me said "I can't be gay; I've liked girls my entire life". Another part of me said "But you know you like Ashley as more than just 'a friend'". And the sad part was that I knew the ladder was true. I _did_ like him as more than just a friend. Even if I couldn't admit that to anybody other than myself, I knew I liked him.

But _why_? I couldn't figure that out whatsoever. I should hate him—especially after what happened with Scout—but I don't. No, instead I have a fucking crush on him.

Physically, I could understand it. He was built. He was incredibly hot.

But other than that, I couldn't think of anything except that he seems like he genuinely cares about me. He also saw me when I was sick to my stomach, and he still said that to me. He seemed nice and caring, and he seemed sweet.

Just that thought alone made me want to retch, and I didn't know why. I was so confused—I hardly knew who I was. Scratch that, I _didn't_ know who I was.

And tomorrow was Friday, which meant it was the final day that I had to dress out in PE. It was the last day of my "partnership" with Ashley during our volleyball lessons. It was the last day we would be able to even talk without people shitting a brick over it. I realized I was going to miss being able to talk to him.

I was going to miss not being able to talk to him outside of PE.

I was going to miss him.

Ashley Purdy

I had to talk to him. It wasn't even a question—I had to. He hadn't come to school, and he'd already left Sandra's room at the hospital. She was acting strange, and seemed happy when I told her I had to find Andy. She said to try and look if he was at his house. So I drove there, and now here I was, standing on his doorstep, feeling like an idiot because I didn't know what to say.

Should I tell him I like him? No, definitely not, I thought. It would probably freak him out, and I didn't want that to happen. I should ask him where he was today. Or ask him if he was feeling bad. Or would that be too suspicious?

But suddenly the door opened and there he stood, with wet hair and no makeup. And he looked inhumanly beautiful.

"Ashley, you've been standing there for five minutes," he said. "Either knock and come in or go away." He crossed his arms and stepped aside, motioning me inside. I entered cautiously, letting him move in front of me.

I gulped and cleared my throat. "I was wondering if you were sick," I said.

He shook his head. "Nope, I just wanted to talk to Sandra."

"Oh," I said lamely.

I glanced away, feeling embarrassed. I asked myself, what the hell was wrong with me? I shouldn't be nervous or tongue-tied around him! I was older and more popular, for God's sake!

He and I both were avoided each other's gazes and this point. And I was getting near desperate to hear him talk again. What is going on with me?! I thought urgently. I need to get away from here, and fast. I was positive I was going insane.

I glanced at Andy and cleared my throat. "I was just wondering if you were sick is all. I guess I'll be leaving." I swallowed again and left, trying with all of my might to not look back.

I liked him way more than I should have. There was something terrible wrong with me.

I heard him follow behind me, and yell, "I want to ask you something!"

I made a face of pain, and turned back around after relaxing my features. "What is it?" I said nonchalantly. He looked almost scared, but also carefree.

"Uhm," he began awkwardly. Then he seemed to get over something internally and he said in a rushed tone, "Do you play bass?"

I felt my eyebrows screw up in confusion. "Yeah," I answered. "Why?"

He cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck. It took every ounce of my being not to say aloud that I thought he looked adorable. "My band—we need a bassist. I was wondering if you would maybe be interested…."

I felt my lips curve upwards in a smile—no, a grin. I saw a blush creep into his cheeks. I cocked my head to the side, and I said, "I'm interested; text me with the details." I turned my back on him and entered my car, looking back one more time. His face was lit up and his eyes were sparkling. I saved that image in my head and thought, one last time, that I was getting in way too deep.


	7. Kisses

***Trigger warning: purging, self-hatred**

* * *

Andy Biersack

"No way!"

"Hell no!"

"Never, ever, ever in a million years, Andy!"

I cringed at the yells coming from my friends and bandmates. Jake, CC, and Jinxx were close to seething with anger. Sandra was looking from me to them, and she scooted closer to me.

Jake stood in front of me and crossed his arms across his chest. "You didn't even tell us about this," he said. "You didn't tell us!"

I sighed and rubbed my temples. "We need a bassist, Jake. You _know_ that. And Ashley already said he's interested."

"But what about us?" asked CC. "We've got a say in who joins and who doesn't join—and he should _not_ join."

"Why not?" Sandra piped up.

They were momentarily at a loss for words. I felt appreciation for Sandra surge up in me. I squeezed her hand.

Then Jinxx said, "We don't know anything about him. Neither do you, Andy. He wouldn't like our music. He'll make everybody think we're more of a joke than they already think."

CC nodded. "He'll ruin everything we've worked for. Once people start finding out, he's going to try and save his sorry ass and telling everybody about how lame and pathetic we are."

"Don't deny it," Jake added, knowing that I was about to do just that. "You know it's the truth."

"I don't know him," I finally admitted. "But you said it yourself: you don't know anything about him, either. And I never said he's permanently joining the band. For all I know, he was only referring to private practice. Just give him a shot, guys."

Jake and CC stood up and gave me one last look before they left. CC said, warningly, "He's got one shot, Andy." Then they exited the room.

Jinxx took a deep breath. "I'll work with him, but if he starts saying shit about us, I'm kicking him out."

I nodded. "If anything, he can give us an example of what our songs would sound like with a quality bass."

"Like I said," he told me. "I'm willing to work with him unless he starts anything." He walked out of the room with a wave to me and a hug for Sandra.

Sandra looked at me. "Do you know if he's good?"

I hung my head. "I have no idea," I admitted. "I didn't even mean to ask him. It just came out."

The corner of her lips turned up in a smile, and she said, "So have you talked to him since then?"

I shook my head furiously, already feeling myself blush a deep red. I cursed aloud and tried to cover my face. Sandra laughed.

"No," I said in reply. "I _definitely_ haven't."

"Why not?" she asked.

"Why not?" I repeated in disbelief. "I can hardly think around him, let alone have a normal conversation! Things just—they just pop out of my mouth when I'm near him. I didn't even mean to ask him into the band!"

Sandra grinned at me. I blushed harder and mumbled, "Shut up."

There was a knock on her door after that, and somebody said, "Uhm, mind if I come in?"

I glanced over at the doorway and saw the handsome face and long hair that belonged to Ashley Purdy. I forced the blush to leave my cheeks, and placed my chin on my knees, which I'd pulled to my chest.

"Go ahead," Sandra told him.

He entered the room but didn't sit down. "Actually," he said, sounding a little uncomfortable, "I need to talk to Andy."

I looked at him and saw that he was looking the wall inbetween Sandra's and my head, avoiding our eyes. I stood up slowly and he led me outside the room. I looked back at Sandra and mouthed _Save me!_ to which she simply laughed.

"I passed by your friends on the way up here," he said. "Jake, CC, and Jinxx, I mean."

I opened my mouth quickly and replied, "They can learn to deal with you working with us." He looked at me and smirked.

"They're convinced that I'm going to ruin them, aren't they?" he asked.

I nodded. He sighed.

"I won't; I love music," he confessed. It seemed as though the words were difficult for him to get out. "It's pathetic, but I've always wanted to be in a band… to play music. You gave me the opportunity to do that.

"Please don't think I'm going to work with you guys and then just abandon you when people start finding out. I could care less about my 'reputation'. I actually kind of hate it."

I looked at him, and saw that he was looking down at his hands. I didn't know what to say, so I just kept quiet.

He shook his head. "I know they think I'm going to try and save myself if everybody finds out about this. They think I'm going to tell everyone that I only did it because you were desperate, or that you're all just a bunch of losers who wanted me. I'm not, though. If people find out, they find out. Nothing else. I don't care if my reputation is blown to smithereens."

I looked down at my feet. "I'm trying to convince them of that," I told him quietly. "Jake and CC say that you're going to screw with us. Jinxx is willing to work with you if you're serious about this."

I took a deep breath. "This band is a serious thing for us. It's the only thing we've ever wanted to do with our lives. As corny as it sounds, we've been preparing ourselves for this all of our lives. It's all we have. We don't have a backup plan. This is all we've worked for. I can understand why they're hesitant to let you in, because they don't know if you're dedicated or not."

He looked at me. He said, quietly, "But you know I am?"

I looked into his eyes and nodded. I said, equally as quiet, "I know you are. I can't explain it, but I know you're serious about all of this."

We stopped walking, and we were in an empty hallway of the hospital. I looked down at him, and he looked up at me. My mind was blank; I couldn't think of anything or anyone that wasn't Ashley Purdy. And somehow, I knew his mind was just as blank, too.

I was suddenly painfully aware of how much I liked him. But I couldn't focus on anything. I could focus only on how many butterflies were beating around in my stomach as I leaned down, and he tilted his face upwards to meet mine. I could focus only on how soft his lips were when they met mine, and how sweet he tasted, and how the butterflies seemed to turn into eagles with the intensity that they were flying around inside of my stomach.

The kiss was sweeter than any I'd ever shared with anybody. It didn't even compare to Scout's kisses. I lost myself in his kiss. I kissed him again as I put one had in his hair and one on his neck. My stomach did flips when he placed his hands on my hips and pulled me closer to him, deepening the kiss.

Then we both pulled away, both of us breathing heavily. I felt as though I were floating on air, as though I were in the clouds. I found myself smiling at him, and he pulled me to himself again, and I had no thoughts of refusing his kiss.

But he groaned and said against my lips, "I've got to go."

"No," I mumbled. I felt him smile through the kiss.

"Can I come over to your place tomorrow?" he said.

I kissed him again, giving him my answer before pulling away. He grinned at me and walked away, leaving me standing in the hallway with my hand on my lips and a smile on my face.

I walked back to Sandra's room in a daze. She took one look at me and I swear, she squealed and breathed, "He kissed you! He kissed you!"

I sat at the foot of her bed and pulled my knees to my chest again and shut my eyes, still smiling stupidly. "He kissed me," I confirmed, and then began grinning.

"How was it?" she asked excitedly.

I shook my head, still feeling like I was in the clouds. "It was amazing," I answered. "It was… it was… perfect." I found that I couldn't stop my smiling.

She reached forward and pulled me into a hug. "I'm so happy for you!" she told me.

"He asked if he could come over to my house tomorrow," I said. "I told him yes." I sighed happily.

Then she smiled. "I'm getting released in, like, thirty minutes. We need to go celebrate this amazing moment!"

I was too happy to care. And then the reality of it hit me.

"Holy shit," I said, looking at Sandra with suddenly wide, alert eyes. "Ashley Purdy just kissed me." My eyes opened wider. "I just kissed Ashley Purdy. Holy fuck," I said, beginning to laugh again, this time out of surprise at myself.

Sandra laughed again, too. "Well we still need to go out," she told me. "Do you want to go to the steakhouse?"

I shrugged. I was positive I'd regret it later—but I was still too happy to care. I smiled and buried my head again in my hands.

Ashley Purdy

Okay.

I just made out with Andy Biersack in a hospital corridor. And _damn_—it was nice. I was sitting in my car, just staring outside my window, parked in my driveway at home.

He had kissed me back. He'd kissed me back multiple times, actually. He also pulled me closer. And—I think—he said I could come over to his house.

He liked me. I now had no doubt about that. The look in his eyes when we separated… he definitely liked me back. But did he like me as much as I liked him? I couldn't tell. I knew one thing, though: I was going to take things slow. I wasn't going to rush through what I had with him.

Then a thought struck me: what _did_ I have with him? We weren't dating… were we? No, we couldn't be. But we definitely liked each other, and that meant something, right? We definitely had something, but the question was, what was it?

I shook the thoughts away. The only things that mattered were that he liked me and I liked him. And tomorrow we'd be able to just hang out for as long as we wanted.

Andy Biersack

Eating with Sandra had been a horrible idea. Beyond horrible. It was terrible. It was such a stupid thing to do. I had eaten too much.

I had to be perfect—especially now, because I knew Ashley liked me. He didn't deserve anything less than perfection. I had to try to be perfect, for him. Perfection was thin; it was beautiful. And I was fat; I was ugly. I had to be perfect, for him.

I knew what I had to do, and my eyes already began to tear up as I looked in the direction of the bathroom. It was the only thing I could do. I had no other option. I had to be perfect. I took a deep breath and prepared myself for what I had to do.

I hurt. I'd showered after I purged myself, allowing myself time to calm down before leaving the bathroom and possibly facing anybody. Now I was on my side, lying down on my bed, and thinking everything over.

I had school in the morning. It was Friday, and it'd be my last day of having to dress out in PE—my last day of seeing Ashley without people freaking out. My parents were going out of town for some reason or another tomorrow afternoon, while I'm at school. Then, Saturday, we were supposed to have band practice—which Ashley will be at, because he's our new bassist.

Ashley was so confusing. Or, what Ashley made me feel was confusing. I was supposed to hate him for having everything I've wanted: acceptance, friends, popularity, among other things. I was supposed to hate him for ruining my relationship with Scout. I was supposed to hate him. But I didn't. That was entirely obvious. I cared about him, and I cared about him _a lot_. I cared about him enough to realize that he needed somebody who was perfect.

I felt tears spill out of my eyes, but I didn't try to stop them. I was far from perfect, as far as a person could get. I was a mess, inside and out. I was so ugly, and so fat. The makeup, the clothes I wore… they made me feel less pathetic. I couldn't feel fat while wearing skin-tight leather pants. I couldn't feel ugly with as much makeup as I wore.

At least, that's what I told myself.

I had to put an end to my eating, for the sake of being perfect for Ashley. I had to; there was no other way. I had to work out more. I had to punish myself when I gave in, because I knew I would.

I have to be perfect.

Ashley deserved somebody that was perfect.


	8. Escape

I didn't dream. I fell asleep, and then I was slapping my alarm clock, trying to turn off the irritating ringing. I looked at my ceiling after shutting the noise off, and remembered that it was Friday, and I was going to be seeing Ashley. I found myself smiling as butterflies wracked my stomach again.

I got up and chose my outfit carefully. I had to look good. I picked out my favourite ripped-up pair of jeans and a holey black tank top, then a leather jacket on top of that. I slid on my black leather boots, and went to work on my makeup. I took extra care on applying my foundation, making myself look as flawless as possible. I used my darkest black eyeliner and used my darkest liquid eyeliner on top of it, and applied thicker-than-usual coats of mascara. I even put on my favourite true red lipstick.

I was unsure what to do with my hair. I wanted it to be soft, but my usual process made it awfully knotted. I tried to brush it out, and, after ten minutes of nearly ripping out all of my hair, I managed to get it completely untangled. I looked at myself in the mirror, and did a less-severe version of my usual style—less teasing, but enough to look like _me_.

Then I realized that, after the entire process of getting ready, I had to get to school or I'd be late.

I rushed to school, way too excited to see Ashley than I should have been. But I didn't care. The first person I saw was Sandra, and I ran to her and gave her a huge hug, welcoming her back to school.

"You're looking mighty fancy today, Andy; expecting anything?" she said, a knowing grin on her face.

I laughed and said, "Shut up," but it was way too happy to be serious, because Ashley began walking up to me. I smiled and tried to control my butterflies.

"Hey, Andy," he said, smiling at me. He looked over at Sandra, and gave her a quick, one-armed hug, and he said, "Welcome back, Sandra." But his eyes traveled over to me again.

"Hello," I said, beginning to smile warmer.

"You look great today," he told me.

I nodded in thanks. He and I didn't even notice Sandra grinning as she slipped away, moving towards CC, Jinxx, and Jake, who were watching Ashley and I as we conversed. We did, however, take notice that we were surrounded my nearly the entire school.

Ashley leaned in to my ear and I could hardly keep myself from trembling. Then he whispered, "Follow me," and he began walking away towards the back of the school. I followed him, trying to look inconspicuous but unable to mask my wonder and excitement. Then, finally, we ended up in an empty classroom, in an unused hallway of the school. When he shut the door behind me, he looped his arms around my waist, and pulled me close.

"What are you doing?" I laughed into him, accepting his hug.

"I'm being romantic," he replied, as though it was completely obvious, and I couldn't help but smile into his hair.

Then he pulled away and led me to a corner of the classroom, sitting down on the floor Indian-style, tugging my hand to do the same. I complied with a grin. When I sat down, he hadn't let go of my hand. I didn't argue with it.

"So how are you?" he asked, his eyes lighting up and shining.

I was momentarily stunned silent, because I suddenly realized how… perfect he was. He was sweet, and caring, and romantic, and smart—he was perfect.

I cleared my throat, and said, honestly, for the first time in a long time, "I'm wonderful." I smiled as widely as I could.

"Me too," he replied, and I could tell that he wasn't used to it either. I couldn't explain how I knew; I just did—just like I knew he was serious about the band.

He leaned against the wall, and he tugged my hand again until I was resting my head on his chest. He placed his hands tentatively on mine, as though he were unsure of the gesture. Gently, I took my hands and clasped them with his. He looked at me and smiled, shyly, and I felt my heart melt.

"Would it be too much for me to say I want to just stay here all day?" he said.

I shook my head. "No, because I want to, too."

He rested his chin on my head, and I shut my eyes. This was too nice, too amazing. It was perfect.

After several minutes of random chatter, laugher, and messing around, we fell into a comfortable silence. I even felt myself beginning to doze off before I caught myself. I wanted to be awake for ever second I was with Ashley.

I would ask him questions to keep myself awake. When I asked him what his home life was like, he told me that he was an only child to a single mother. I learned that he'd always been a fan of sports, especially football. He had always been a closeted musician, and wishes he wasn't "popular" because then he could openly pursue music.

And in turn, he asked me about my life. I told him of always loving music, but that hockey was another passion of mine. He seemed surprised to hear that I told him of how close Sandra and I were, and how much Jayy and Dahvie were beginning to mean to me.

I began opening up to Ashley, telling him of what I wanted to do when the band make it big. I told him my hopes and what I wanted to accomplish in life before I died.

Hours seemed to pass before I began to nod off again. But this time, he murmured, "You can sleep, you know. I'm not stopping you." And when I shut my eyes again, he began to sing a song under his breath, and it was beautiful. I stayed awake long enough to hear what I felt was the whole song, and then I fell asleep.

When I woke up, Ashley was running his fingers through my hair. He seemed to be doing it absentmindedly, unknowingly. I was tempted to pretend I was still asleep, solely because I wanted him to keep messing with my hair, but I didn't, and I repositioned myself and got more comfortable against his chest.

His hand froze on my head. "Are you awake?" he asked.

I nodded. "Yep," I replied. His hand resumed its previous activity of going through my hair. I wanted to ask him something, but I was scared.

Finally, I got up the courage to say, "Can I ask you a question?"

I could feel his nod, and he said, "Of course."

I swallowed at the lump in my throat. If I asked, and he said no… I don't know how I'd react. "What are we?" I asked, seriously and quietly.

He was quiet, and I could tell he knew exactly what I was talking about. Finally, he said, "I want to say we're a couple, but I don't know."

"What don't you know?" I questioned, not moving from my place on his chest.

"I don't know… how we're going to do this."

I nodded. I'd be lying if I said I hadn't thought of it. "None of my friends like you, except Sandra."

He sighed. "And none of my friends like you either." But then he laughed. "What am I talking about?" he asked himself. "I don't like _them_." He chuckled.

I smiled and shook my head. "Well, Dahvie and Jayy like me," I reminded him.

"That's true," he said. Then he looked at the clock on the wall, and he sighed. It was nearly time to leave.

I grinned. "I can't believe we spent all day in this spot."

"I know," he replied with another laugh. "I guess we'll just have to make everything up on Monday."

I nodded. But then I remembered something, and I asked, "Do you still want to come over today?"

He shrugged. "Only if you want me to," he answered.

I looked away and hid my face as a blush entered my cheeks. "If _you_ want to, you can."

I could practically hear the smile in his voice when he said, "Oh, if_ I_ want to?" He lifted a hand and put it underneath my chin, tilting my head upwards to look him in the eyes, running his thumb across my cheek. He was grinning, and there was something in his eyes—something warm, something caring. Slowly, the smile faded, and his eyes traveled towards my lips, and I stretched to meet his lips.

Then a voice announced over the PA system, "Class is now over for the day; you are all dismissed."

We pulled away, and something in his eyes made the butterflies turn into eagles again. I was happy, though. I felt warm inside, and I felt happy. I was safe with Ashley.

And I realized that I had never felt safe up until that moment. I don't know how I felt before, but never safe. I would never admit it aloud, but I was always scared—of myself. I was scared of the things I thought about when I was alone, of the things I did when I felt like I was at the bottom of a hole. But with Ashley, I knew I wouldn't feel that way again, because I was safe with him.

"We should probably get up," he said quietly, but not moving. When I nodded, he sighed and stood, reaching his hands down to help me up. I smiled, and grabbed his hands.

He continued to hold my hand until we reached the outside of the hallway, where we could see students crowding the campus. But we didn't separate, and we laughed and joked around like we'd done all day. Once or twice, somebody stopped us and would ask where we had been all day, but we just shrugged it off. And every time, they directed the question at Ashley, not myself, so I didn't do anything except look away or ignore them.

But then we reached the parking lot, and Ashley told me to drive to my house and he'd follow. We separated then, and I walked to my car, feeling strangely lonely, but I knew that he'd only be right behind me. That comforted me.

The drive was strange. On one hand, it felt short because I knew Ashley was right behind me. On the other hand, it was incredibly long because, though he_ was_ behind me, we were still separated. Regardless, when we both parked and walked inside, I felt better.

When we finally were inside, the first thing that was said was from Ashley, and it was: "Are you hungry?"

For the first time all day, I was scared to answer a question. I hadn't eaten all day—neither had he. I could feel my stomach beginning to ache with hunger, but I couldn't eat. I couldn't because then I wouldn't be perfect.

So I cleared my throat and said, "Nah, I'll grab something later."

He frowned and I did my best attempt to smile. I said, "You're welcome to anything that's in the house." When he grinned and turned away, I dropped the smile and silently exhaled.

After eating a small bag of chips, he sat on the couch, allowing me to curl up next to him. He was flipping through the TV, and I was thinking.

I felt horrible. I had never felt bad before when I lied to cover for myself. I never felt guilty about lying. But now… now I felt sick. I did my best to cover up the uneasiness though.

After more laughs, kisses, and—surprisingly—cuddles, Ashley said he had to leave. I panicked at first, because I knew I'd miss him when he left, but controlled it. He kissed me one more time, and promised he'd be at my house the next day for band practice, and then he said his goodbyes.

But once he left, my guilt returned, worse than before. I waited until his car was out of my sight before I allowed myself to cry.

I was pathetic. I was lying to the only person who could make me feel safe. I was lying to his face, and doing it to protect myself.

But I was doing it to protect him, too. That counted, didn't it? He didn't need to deal with me. He didn't have to.

None of that mattered, though, and I knew it. I was still lying to him. I was still pathetic. Still worthless. I didn't deserve him. I was too… unimportant. I was nothing.

I glanced at my wrist, and I knew what I had to do. I had to punish myself for not being good enough. I set off for my closet, where my blade still lay.

Ashley Purdy

He had been acting odd since we got to his house. I figured he was uncomfortable, that he would calm down a bit once we were settled. But he seemed to retreat, and was "gone" even while we were talking.

I was reminded of something I thought earlier in the week, that he seemed as though he had some personal issues. Now, I truly believed it. I didn't know what kind of issues though. Maybe Sandra would know, but I couldn't pry. I simply couldn't. If he wanted me to know, he'd have told me.

I couldn't pry, but I was too curious. He'd mentioned in passing that Sandra knew of _us_. I could go to her. If nothing else, I could ask if he was always like that.

I felt bad, but I had to know. I wouldn't pry; I'd just… make sure I had nothing to worry about.

Thankfully, Sandra didn't live too far away—just five or so minutes. When I got to her house, I knocked on the door and a girl, brown haired and tall, met me on the other side of the door.

"Uh, hi; is Sandra home?" I asked.

She said, "Yeah, come on in." She turned around and I followed her inside. "I'm Juliet, by the way," she told me with a quick smile my way.

We turned into the living room. "I'm—"

"Ashley?" Sandra cut me off. "Where were you all day? I didn't see you or Andy."

I smiled. "Andy and I were together all day." The smile faded from my lips. "That's kinda what I wanted to talk to you about."

She nodded and turned to Juliet. "Would you mind…?"

Juliet shook her head. "No, not at all," she said, and I heard a very raspy edge in her voice. She turned around and walked towards one of the far bedrooms of the house.

Sandra looked at me. "What's going on? Is Andy okay?"

I nodded. "First, I know you know about us," I said, and she grinned briefly. "But I need to know something, and I can't ask Andy."

Her eyebrows knitted together, and she looked worried. Her voice, when she next spoke, sounded careful and guarded. "What do you want to know?"

I took a deep breath. "I don't know how to explain it, and I don't want to pry… but I know you two are close."

She raised one eyebrow, and gestured for me to get on with it. I said, "Does Andy have… any issues that I need to know about?"

And all of a sudden, her face smoothed out—a perfect poker face. But it wasn't perfect; there was sadness in her eyes that gave me all the answer I needed. However, she told me, "I wish I could answer your question, but I can't. If there is anything, you'll have to wait for him to tell you, because I couldn't."

I sighed. "I couldn't ask?"

She made a face. "You could try, but I doubt he'd answer. Andy… he's been hurt in the past. He's incredibly private about his life. If he trusts you, he'll tell you. End of story. But if he doesn't trust you, he'll just withdraw."

I frowned. So he didn't trust me.

"Well, I'll try, I guess," I said. There was an aching in my chest, and it made it difficult to breathe. Andy didn't trust me. I trusted him wholeheartedly, and he didn't trust me.

"Can I tell you something?" she said before I exited the room. I turned around and looked at her.

She was attempting to smile, but it came out as more of just a lifting of the corner of her lips. "When Andy talked to me about you, I could tell that he cared about you. If he isn't telling you something, don't assume he doesn't trust you." I looked away guiltily, and she continued. "Andy… he's confused about all of this. He doesn't know what he's feeling, because he doesn't know who he's supposed to love.

"But, Ashley, I think he cares about you way more than he's letting anybody know. When he talks about you…. I can't even describe the look in his eyes. He looks happy. There's a light inside of him, almost. I think the reason he's not telling you something is because he cares about you too much."

I looked at her in confusion. "I don't know what you're talking about," I told her.

She frowned. "He's going to hate me for telling you this, but oh well. Andy has a distorted way of thinking. If he cares about you as much as I think he does, he doesn't want you to know the bad things about him because he thinks you're going to look at him differently."

I looked at her and took a deep breath. "To be honest, Sandra… I think I might love him. I'm not sure anything could make me think anything else."

But she just shook her head. "You don't know the Andy that I do," she said. "You know what he's told you, which I will bet isn't even a quarter of what I know. I'm not saying it to sound like a bitch; I'm saying it because it's the truth. When he starts to trust you, he's going to tell you. He's probably going to tell you little by little, but only when he starts to trust you."

I looked at her, and thought about what she was saying, and I knew, deep inside, that what she said was true. I had to wait for him to tell me.

I nodded. But she held up one finger. "One last thing before you go: if Andy feels like you're trying to figure him out, or like you're snooping around him, he_ will_ retreat, without a doubt."

"I understand," I said.

And then I left.


	9. Band Practice

Andy Biersack

When I greeted Jake, Jinxx, and CC at my door, I wasn't sure of what I was expecting—anger, maybe. Maybe even the silent treatment. But when I opened the door, they were loud and obnoxious. _Too_ loud and obnoxious. After I sat them down, the doorbell rang, and I went and opened the door to see Ashley.

"Hi," he said, smiling. He shut the door behind him and then put his arms around my waist, hugging me gently.

I hugged him back and then sighed. "I doubt we'll be practicing today," I said.

"What? Why?" he asked.

I looked in the direction of the living room. "They're wasted," I told him. "I'm not sure _how_ wasted, but they are."

Ashley followed my line of sighed and entered the living room. Upon seeing him, CC said, "Hey! Ashley! That's a girl name, you know. Why do you have a girls' name?" Behind him, Jake and Jinxx howled with laughter.

He ignored the jab at his name, though. Instead, he set his bass down and then sat down himself. He smiled at me. "Sing something."

"Like what?" I asked.

"Something… quiet," he answered "One of your songs."

I thought back to the song I wrote Monday, the one I titled "Saviour". I began singing.

"_I never meant to be the one, who kept you from the dark. But now I know my wounds are sewn, because of who you are. I will take this burden on, and become the holy one, but remember I am human and I'm bound to sing this song_."

Ashley looked around and grabbed the acoustic guitar that was leaning against the sofa. After a second or two, he began picking random chords. Then I grinned.

"I'm not good with sheet music," he confessed. "But I can remember chords pretty well."

I nodded and listened to his playing. I continued singing and he continued strumming. Even Jinxx, Jake, and CC shut up and began listening. After Ashley and I figured out the first verse, chorus, and second verse, Jinxx picked up his violin and began playing a beautiful solo, and then CC began beating his hands on his knees for drumming rhythms. When we finished the song, we were surrounded by a silence that only came when someone knows that they did what they were meant to do.

Then Jake stood and snatched his guitar back from Ashley.

I was prepared for Ashley—or myself—to get angry. But surprisingly, we both were calm. Whether it was because of the song or something else, I don't know. But Ashley simply shrugged and began figuring out the bass for our song.

Things were fairly quiet after that. Jinxx and Jake would say something, but then their hangover began to take effect. Jake was glowering and texting somebody—presumably Ella. Ashley and I spoke to each other quietly, discussing the songs we had to work on.

Then the other guys announced that our hour of band practice was up. I sighed and said my goodbyes. Then only Ashley and I remained. He looked over at me and laughed, though it sounded more like a giggle to me. I smiled at him and yelled as he suddenly grabbed me by the waist and picked me up. I laughed and yelled, "Put me down," to which he put me over his shoulder. I hit him on the back and continued yelling at him until, finally, he set me down in front of him.

I was breathing heavily and looking down at him, wondering how someone shorter than me could pick me up. Before I could think anything else, he pulled my face down to his and kissed me on the lips lightly.

I couldn't stop myself from kissing him back, and I didn't _want_ to stop myself. When we pulled apart, I took his hand and pulled him towards the couch. Ashley lied down first, and then I curled up beside him. I felt his lips touch my head, and I plucked up the courage to kiss his chest. Then I rested my head and settled for listening to his heartbeat.

Again, he ran his fingers through my hair. I shut my eyes and focused on the feeling.

"You're beautiful," he whispered.

And that was what made me remember: I didn't deserve him. I could pretend I was normal, even believe it. But I wasn't. And for him to think it… to think I was beautiful… it was impossible. Because I wasn't. I couldn't be.

"Andy?" Ashley asked.

I mentally shook myself. "Yeah?" I said.

Be took a deep breath. "Can I tell you something?"

I froze. What was he going to say? That he was lying? That he didn't like me anymore? I forced myself to nod my head.

There was a silence. The next words he said, I didn't expect. I was pretty sure I stopped breathing.

"I love you, Andy," he said.

I didn't move. I tried not to react at all, but he could tell something was wrong. He wasn't an idiot.

"It's okay if you don't feel the same way," he said. "I just had to tell you."

Still, I didn't reply. I couldn't. The flood of emotions prevented me from doing so. I was scared. I was confused. How could he love me? I was speechless… happy? Maybe. Because I know one thing for sure: I loved him too.

I opened my mouth. But what came out, I wasn't meaning to say. "You can't," I whispered. Then I sat up, scooted to the other side of the couch, and pulled my knees to my chest.

"Why not?" he asked.

"Because… because…" What could I say without telling him everything? I couldn't think of anything. So I gave up. I turned my confusion into anger—something I was good at.

"Just because," I snapped.

Ashley looked at me with hurt-filled eyes. He looked down and reached for my hand. When he pulled, my jacket sleeve was pushed up. There, in plain sight, were my scars and my fresh cuts, decorating my whole forearm. I yanked my arm back, but it was too late. He'd seen them. All of them. And there was no mistaking what they were.

I glanced up at him and felt myself choke up. I couldn't even explain the look on his face. He looked heartbroken—and scared.

"Get out," I managed, the anger already gone. Now I was just scared.

"Andy…" he said.

"Get out!" I yelled. I stood and walked forward, unable to look at him because of the look in his eyes.

And he did.

Not long after, my phone buzzed. It was a text message from Jake. It said, "So that's why you let him in the band."

I fell to my knees in the middle of the carpet. But I couldn't cry. I couldn't. So I sat there and, as Ashley said the day he drove me home, wallowed in my own self pity.

Ashley Purdy

I drove straight to Sandra's house and banged on her door. She answered, her eyebrows raised and yelling, "What the actual fuck, Purdy?!"

I stared at her. Working furiously to keep my voice under control, I said, "He's a_ cutter_?"

She yanked off her sunglasses and she made hushing noises. "Based on how angry you are, I'm going to assume he didn't tell you. How the hell did you find out?"

"You _knew_?" I yelled.

"Yes, I knew!" she yelled back. "Did you think I was lying when I said I knew things about him that you didn't? Well guess what: I wasn't. I've known for years. I still care about him. Who do you think took care of him when he cut too deep?" She was breathing heavily.

"My point is," she said, "is that I've known for years and he's still my bestfriend. You've known for not even a day, and you're going completely ape-shit. I thought you loved him."

I ran a hand through my hair, and I took a deep breath. Did I still love him? The answer was clear and obvious. "I do still love him," I said.

She nodded. "Then get your ass over to him and tell him."

I debated for a second. "Should I wait for him to calm down?" I asked.

"No," she said. "Just go."

I got back in my car and drove back to him.

I knew I should've knocked on the floor, but I also knew he wouldn't have answered it for me. So I walked right in, and saw him, crumpled on the floor. Slowly, I got down in front of him. Then I waited for him to look at me.

She was right. He was incredibly fragile.

When he finally looked at me, I placed my hand on his cheek. Then I leaned in and kissed him as softly as I could. I pulled away, and then I carefully took his arm and kissed it through his jacket sleeve.

I looked him in the eyes. I placed my hand on his cheek again and said, "I love you, Andy. Nothing will ever change that."

He looked into both of my eyes. "But you can't love me," he murmured thickly.

I stared back at him. "Why not?" I asked him, still quietly.

"Because I'm not… I can't…." He was getting very distressed, so I made hushing noises and ran my fingers through his hair, brushing it away from his face.

"It's okay," I said. "Tell me when you're ready."

He nodded. Then I pulled him into my arms and simply held onto him.

That's how we sat for the rest of the day. I didn't care about being hungry—I could eat later. What I had to do now was show Andy that I would always be there for him.

Part of me was scared that he didn't love me back. But I ignored that. It didn't matter if he loved me back or not. He didn't have to say anything. He would tell me when he was ready.

He did break out silence, though. But what he said was something I'd not been expecting. "Jake knows about us."

Once my initial shock wore off, I said, "How?"

He handed me his phone after he opened to a text message.

'So that's why you let him in the band.'

Suddenly, I was angry again. I didn't care if people found out about us, but Andy did. And for one of his own friends to find out, and having it be the friend that hated me… it couldn't mean anything good.

"I'm sorry," I said.

He shook his head. "Don't be. He's the one being a dick."

"Well, I'm still sorry. I know this has to be hurting you."

He didn't respond, which was all the answer I needed. "Are you going to talk to him?"

"Yeah, when his hangover goes away. Until then, he won't listen to me."

I sighed, and then pulled him closer to me. He buried his head in my shoulder.

Soon, I asked him, "When are your parents coming home?"

He shrugged. "Next week."

"If you want to, you can stay with me," I told him, "in case you don't want to be alone."

He nodded. "I'd like that," he admitted.

"Do you want to go get some clothes?" I asked him.

He was quiet for a second, and then he nodded. When I got up, I held my hands out to him and pulled him up to his feet. Again, I pulled him close and kissed him sweetly. I wanted him to know just how much he meant to me, how much I cared about him.

I led him to his room, and sat on his bed as he gathered clothes from around the room. He mostly gathered skinny jeans and batman shirts, and I smiled despite myself. After he grabbed his pajamas and toiletries, and shoved everything into a large duffle bag, I followed him out of the room.

I held his hand comfortingly even when we exited the house, and opened the trunk of my car for him to put his bag in. Then I opened my passenger door for him, walked to the drivers' side, got in, and drove the short drive back to my house. I gripped his hand again.

If he was surprised at how close we lived, he kept it hidden.

When we got to my house, I offered to carry his bag for him, and then he followed me inside. I felt slightly embarrassed at the messy state that it was in, and apologized for it. He responded with a quiet, "Don't worry about it," and returned to his silence.

I led him to my spare bedroom, and told him, if he wanted to, he could be alone while he got settled. But the look in his eyes when I suggested it—terror, fear—quickly had me by his side and hugging him for dear life. And I didn't want to let go.

But I did, and I sat on his bed, Indian-style, watching him unpack his clothes and put them in the dresser. He took his time, refolding everything before putting it away. I counted seven pairs of jeans, five shirts, five pairs of socks, three pairs of shoes, one pair of pajamas, and a stuffed giraffe. When he finally put everything away, he walked towards the bed and sat down next to me and leaned into my side.

We sat like that for a while. We didn't talk. He leaned against my side, and I wrapped an arm around his back. I would rest my head on his, and occasionally kiss his head, and he scooted closer to me, but we didn't really move at all.

After almost thirty minutes, I felt him begin to shake. I looked at him and saw tears running down his face, but he didn't make a sound. I put my other arm around him and held him close.

Soon he fell asleep. I carefully stood up and placed him underneath the blankets on the bed, and then I turned the light off and the fan on. I looked at him one last time before exiting his room and walking to mine.

Sandra was right; he was fragile. I never thought he would be. I always saw him as a tough guy, a guy who simply didn't care about the negativity around him. Instead, he listened to it all. But instead of telling someone… he'd take it out on himself. He'd cut. And Sandra said he's done it for years. For years, he's been hurting himself because of what my classmates—my friends—said to him. And I never did anything about it. Who knew what else he's done because of them?

I didn't want to think about it. I knew one thing, though: I was going to put an end to it.

Andy Biersack

It took me a minute to remember where I was when I woke up. The nightmare was still fresh in my mind, the nightmare that woke me up at what was clearly the middle of the night. I only remembered flashes now, but it was enough to have me scared to close my eyes.

So much had happened. Ashley knows about my self-mutilation. He said he still loved me. Part of me was thrilled… another part of me was terrified. What would he do when he found out about my eating disorder? Would he freak out like he did this morning? Or would he hug me and tell me everything was okay?

I shook the thoughts away. I couldn't think about that.

I did love Ashley. But I couldn't tell him that, either. I wanted to… I almost did… but I couldn't do it. Because I can't love him. He can't love me. I'm not good enough for him to love. I wasn't perfect enough. I wasn't smart enough, or even nice enough. I couldn't explain that to him. Even to myself, it was crazy, but it was true.

I heard a soft knocking on my door, and saw Ashley in my doorway. He looked tired, and he was wearing only pajama bottoms.

"You're awake," he said. "It's only around eleven, you know."

I shrugged. "I woke up," I told him. I cleared my throat when I heard the hoarseness.

He nodded. "I couldn't sleep," he said. "I wanted to make sure you were okay."

"I'm fine," I replied.

But he shook his head. "No you're not," he said in a murmur. "But I'm not pressing you for anything right now. I also was wondering if you were hungry." He attempted a smile.

At that moment, I could feel my stomach aching. I'd gone two days without eating anything. I _was_ hungry….

"I am," I said.

He smiled for real this time. "Come with me; I have food in the kitchen."

I got up and followed him, holding his hand the entire way. When we entered the kitchen, I saw way more food that I'd anticipated. Steak, burgers, milkshakes—it looked like he'd ordered everything on a take-out menu. I can't eat anything large, I told myself. I grabbed the smallest milkshake I saw and settled for that while Ashley began piling a plate full of food.

When he looked up at me and saw only my small cup, he looked confused. I shrugged. "I'm only a little hungry. And milkshakes work for thirst and hunger," I told him, and then I sipped my drink.

He nodded and bit into large burger. After several more bites, he looked back at me. I looked away, at my hands. He set the other half of his burger down on his plate, swallowed, and then put one of his hands on top of mine. I tried to smile, but I couldn't do it. I shut my eyes and ducked my head, pressing my lips together. Then I laughed. It was quiet, and it was shaky and sad, but I laughed.

"What is it?" Ashley asked.

I shook my head, still not looking at him. Quietly, I said, "I've cried so much these past few days. I'm surprised I can still cry."

He took the drink from my hands and took both of them in his. He pulled them to his lips and kissed the back of both of them. Then he held them to his neck. "I'm sorry you've had to go through all this, Andy," he murmured.

I tried to swallow the lump in the back of my throat, and then I looked up at him. I wanted nothing more, in that moment, than to tell him about my eating disorder. To tell him how much I'd gone through.

Instead, I felt tears in my eyes. I took a deep breath, though, and tried to keep them from coming down. I couldn't cry. Not again.

Ashley leaned forward and pressed his lips to my forehead, and he said, "It's okay to cry."

But I shook my head. "I can't cry," I said before I could stop myself.

He looked at me and asked, "Why not?"

And I decided to just tell him the truth. It would hurt less than lying to him. "I've already cried too much. I can't let myself cry more."

There were no words to describe the look in his eyes. Among the many I emotions I saw, I recognized sadness and something like pity. Then, as if to torture me further, I saw liquid pooling in his eyes. When a tear slipped from one of his eyes, I took one of my hands from his and wiped it away.

I scooted forward to him and put my arms around him. He was still for not even a second before he put his arms around me, too. Then I pulled away, looked him in the eyes, and kissed him.

"You're an amazing person, Ashley," I said, when I pulled away. "I'm just sorry you have to deal with me."

He shook his head. "I wouldn't phrase it like that. I'm glad I'm trying to _help_ you. By letting you know that _you aren't alone_," he explained. "And I'm going to do everything in my power to get those fuckers at school to shut their mouths," he added.

I sighed. "It'll be pointless. If they can't do it at school, they'll do it on the computer. They'll text it to me. They'll leave a voicemail. You can't stop them."

"I'm going to try anyways," he said to me.

We both were quiet for a few minutes. I was secretly happy—even though everything seemed like it was crumbling down around me, it was like Ashley was my shelter. He was protecting me. He loves me, I reminded myself. I just wished I had the courage to tell him myself.

Then Ashley said, in a serious and quiet tone, "How long have you done it?"

I followed his line of sight to my left wrist. I tried to pull my arm back, but he held my hand tighter. His thumb made soothing circles on my hand, and I took a deep breath. "Since January 14, 2009." I laughed—a sad, pathetic sound.

He looked at me. "You remember the exact date?"

I shook my head. "It isn't something I can forget."

He frowned. "You don't have to answer if you don't want to, but… why did you start?"

I stared at my arm, feeling sick. I said honestly, "I don't know how to explain it." I shut my eyes, forcing myself to look away. My stomach was churning. I took a deep breath, and then I said, "It was a way to… cope. To cope with everybody."

"Is that what is still is?" he asked.

I didn't respond for a few seconds, and then I shook my head. But I couldn't answer verbally. The words wouldn't form in my mouth, and nothing I could do would make them. He seemed to understand, and he stood, and began putting the food away in the fridge.

I watched him and, after a minute, stood and helped him put the dishes away. But he'd been mostly done, and I didn't have much to do. Then he walked behind me and put his arms around me, yet again, and put his head on my shoulder.

"Do you want to talk, or do you want to sleep?"

I smirked, and said, "I'd rather sleep, honestly."

He nodded. "Me too. C'mon, I'll walk you." And even that, as small as it was, filled my stomach with butterflies.

When we reached my room, I entered and lied down, and he followed and sat on the bed. Then he grinned and said, "I bet you feel like a kid."

I found myself grinning, too. But this time, when my grin fell away, I was still happy.

He looked in the direction of his room. "If you're still having troubles sleeping, come get me, okay?"

I rolled my eyes but nodded. Then he leaned towards me and kissed my forehead again, and then my lips. Even now, after as many kisses as we'd shared, the butterflies still fluttered around in my stomach. I smiled through the kiss.

Then he pulled away. He smirked at me before he exited my room and shut the light off.

And surprisingly enough, I fell asleep almost instantaneously.


	10. Vulnerability

The following morning, I awoke to Ashley tapping on my shoulder. On any other circumstance, were it any other person, I would have groaned and told them to go away. But this was Ashley—I turned over and gave him a sleep-drunk smile.

He smiled back at me. "Good morning, Sleepyhead. You have visitors."

I rubbed my face and yawned. "The visitors can wait. I've got to shower."

Ashley laughed and pulled me out of bed. After grabbing a pair of jeans, a T shirt, and some underwear, I walked toward the bathroom and took my shower. I took my time, washing off all of my makeup and thoroughly cleaning my hair. Once done and dressed, I slipped on some eyeliner and mascara and left to rejoin Ashley and my "visitors".

He was sitting in his living room, talking at laughing at something someone had said. I recognized the voices, though.

I turned the corner into the living room and saw the rainbow hair of Dahvie and the bright red contacted eyes of Jayy. They both grinned and greeted me with bear hugs.

"Andy!" Dahvie exclaimed. "We haven't seen you in ages."

I chuckled. "I'm sorry, guys. I've been preoccupied." I smiled nervously.

Jayy looked at Ashley suggestively. "I bet you have been," he said. He grinned when he saw my face. "I'm kidding," he told me.

We all sat down, myself beside Ashley and Dahvie beside Jayy. Then Ashley looked at me. "I hope it's okay that they know about us," he said.

I shrugged. Jay said, "Yeah. I mean, you know we're not going to go crazy because you may or may not be gay."

Dahvie added, "Look at us: we're together. It'd be pretty douchey if we did that."

My eyes widened. "I didn't know that," I said.

They grinned. "We don't broadcast it, you know?" Dahvie said. "But if people ask, we tell them the truth."

I nodded. "That sounds like a good thing."

Jayy cracked up. "The hilarious thing is, is that no one ever believes us," he said.

I laughed, too. "I don't think I would have believed you either," I said honestly.

Ashley looked at me with a smile. "Hey," he said. "Do you want breakfast?"

Dahvie cut in, "You mean lunch?"

I braced myself and shook my head, giving him a false smile. "Nah, I'm not hungry."

His eyes clouded over and I found myself silently begging, _Please don't say anything. Please don't say anything_.

And thankfully, he didn't. He did, however, give me odd looks.

I felt sick after that. I found I couldn't return to my carefree mood, and the churning in my stomach returned.

An hour later, Jayy and Dahvie left. Once they'd gotten a dozen hugs each, they exited the house and drove away. I found myself curled on my side on Ashley's couch, trying to ignore the burning in my stomach.

I knew part of my stomach hurt because of hunger pains. I'd had them before, but never had they been mixed with guilt. I felt horrible again. I wanted to talk to Ashley or Sandra, but I couldn't. I didn't know why, but I knew I couldn't talk to them.

Except, after Ashley had said goodbye to our guests, he sat on the floor in front of me.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

I didn't want to lie to him, but I couldn't tell him what really was wrong. And I was scared that, if I opened my mouth, I'd say the words I wasn't supposed to say. So I shook my head, trying to convey to him with my eyes what I couldn't say with my mouth.

After a few seconds, Ashley stood and sat himself where my head was—after lifting it, of course. Then he began twirling my hair around his finger. I found myself beginning to relax in his lap.

Before I started to let myself doze off, I began tracing random shapes on his jeans. Then I said, "I'm sorry."

His hand stilled. "For what?" he asked.

I took a deep breath. "I want to tell you everything, to explain everything, but I can't."

I didn't see his face, but I knew what I could see: pity, confusion. I squeezed my eyes shut, refusing to look at him even as he rolled me over.

He was quiet. I knew he was waiting for me to open my eyes, and eventually, I did. Then he said, "I know. And I'll wait to hear everything until you're ready to tell me. I won't pry, or snoop. When you trust me, you'll tell me."

I shook my head. "I _do_ trust you. I trust you as much as I trust Sandra. I'm just—I'm scared."

"Scared of what?" he asked gently.

I looked into his milk-chocolate eyes and tried to figure out a way to phrase my next sentence without sounding ridiculous.

"I'm scared you're going to learn things about me that you won't like, and you're going to leave me," I finally admitted.

He shook his head. "I can't promise I'll never leave you," he said, and I could feel my heart aching at his words, "because when a person does that, they always do. But I can promise to always be there for you, whether it's as your friend or your boyfriend."

I took comfort in his words. They gave me a small amount of hope.

The rest of the day passed seemingly quickly. I made poor excuses for my lack of eating, though I did give in and eat apple slices Sunday evening.

Soon, Monday was there. I was scared to go, but Ashley reminded me that I'd already missed half of the previous week. I decided to tough it out and go; I had to talk to Jake.

Except, the second Ashley pulled into the school, I knew that him convincing me to come bad been a bad idea.

Plastered on every surface available were pieces of paper. On every piece of paper, there was a photo of myself and Ashley kissing in my living room. Beneath, there was a caption: "FAGS: ANDY BIERSACK & ASHLEY PURDY!"

I wrapped my arms around my stomach and ducked my head, even though I knew people would still recognize me by my hair and my height—there weren't many six foot five teenagers at the school. Ashley kept a hand on the small of my back.

Then a burly football player stood in our path. "So _this_ is why you couldn't come to football practice at all this weekend?" He threw a flyer in Ashley's face.

Ashley looked up calmly. "I don't know what you're talking about."

It was the wrong thing to say. The guy began turning purple with anger. "The pictures are everywhere, Purdy. You—you making out with this_ thing_." He hooked a thumb over at me.

That is what set Ashley off. In a voice cold as ice, he warned, "Don't you _dare_ call Andy a 'thing'. Don't you _dare_."

But the football player began to look like he was having fun. "Oh really?" he asked. He grabbed me by the arm, gripping me so tightly that I was sure there would be bruises. He held me in a deathly tight grip.

Ashley had gone white. The guy pulled me in front of him. I vaguely noticed a crowd beginning to take form. But I didn't pay attention. I focused all of my attention on Ashley.

"Let him go," he said, knowing it was no use. The guy laughed.

And me? I was waiting for a moment when he wasn't paying attention to me. I'd worn my steel-toed Doc Martens. If I had the right moment, I could kick him from behind. He'd loosen his grip on me, I'd get away from him, grab Ashley's hand, and run. At least, that was my plan.

I tried to grab Ashley's attention. Finally, he looked at me. I mouthed 'Distract him' and I prayed he understood me. When he nodded, I breathed a sigh of relief. Thankfully, the guy holding me didn't notice.

Then I saw my friends in the crowd: Sandra, Jayy, Dahvie, Matt, Jinxx, and CC. All of them were looking from me to Ashley to the guy holding me. I managed to catch Sandra's eyes. I mouthed to her what I told Ashley. I saw her whisper it to all of our friends, each one nodding in agreement.

Everything was a blur after that. I clearly saw Sandra kick the guy next to her at the same time Jinxx, CC, and Matt punched whoever was nearest to them. Jayy and Dahvie punched several people in the face. After each kick, hit, or punch, they would run off, doing the same to everyone in their path.

They'd created the perfect distraction: a riot.

And sure enough, the hold on me loosened. I instantly kick him in the shin and stamped on his foot. He let go and I took off, running straight for Ashley. In the middle of the chaos, no one saw us run to the deserted classroom we hid in on Friday.

I instantly pulled my phone out as Ashley pulled the teachers' desk in front of the door. I texted Sandra. 'We're good. Thank you.'

Then I felt tentative fingers on my arm. I flinched before remembering it was only Ashley. He pulled me into his arms and I melted into his touch.

"Fucking jackass," he mumbled. I knew he was talking about the football guy. "I can't believe him. Talking about you like you weren't human. Like you didn't have feelings or emotions. I should've knocked his teeth in—thrown him across the lot."

He was fuming. Carefully, I reached my arms up through the circle of his arms and pulled his face up to mine. I kissed him softly. "I'm okay," I told him.

He frowned though. "If that guy's tackle is any indication as to how strong he is, you're going to be black and purple by tomorrow."

I frowned, too, though for different reasons. I said nothing—which immediately alerted Ashley.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"I won't be able to go back there," I said. "I was a laughingstock before all of this. Now they find out I love you? I'm fucked. Straight up."

Ashley was beginning to smile, a light in his eyes I hadn't seen much. But I continued. "You're a jock, but I'll bet you're still popular. You're probably better off than I am, regardless."

I had the wind knocked out of me as Ashley suddenly picked me up and swirled me around. When he set me down, he kissed me so tenderly that my knees felt weak.

I thought back to what I said and realized what it was: I'd admitted that I loved him.

I was an expert at hiding my feelings, even if they hurt me. This time, I hid my horror. He knew I loved him. He knew. Though my rational mind knew he wouldn't abuse the fact that I loved him, my self-hatred led me to believe he'd use it and hurt me the first chance he got.

In that moment, I wished nothing more than to be a normal guy. But because I wasn't, I put on a false smile and sat down, holding Ashley's hand.

Around lunchtime, Ashley claimed he had to have something or else he would starve. He said he'd go to the cafeteria and bring back some food for the both of us. I watched him go and then buried my head in my knees.

I wanted to tell him. I couldn't keep lying to him, but I couldn't hurt him. Because Ashley loved me. He told me he'd be here for me. He didn't deserve someone lying to him and keeping things from him, especially since he cared about the person that was lying.

It didn't matter if I wanted to or not, I realized. I had to, or else it would kill me inside. Because nothing hurt worse than lying to the person you love.

I didn't even realize Ashley had reentered the classroom until he nudged me on the shoulder. In his hand was a plate of food, enough for both of us.

"Hey; are you okay?" he asked.

I contemplated my response and carefully shook my head. It's now or never, I told myself.

"You can tell me anything," he said.

I replied, "I was counting on that."

I breathed deeply, trying to calm my nerves. What if he left again, like when he found I found out I cut?

"I want you to promise me something," I told him. "Promise you won't overreact and leave."

He hesitated. "I promise," he began, "to not leave or overreact."

I nodded. Then I thought, how am I supposed to even begin? I would have to come right out and say it.

So I braced myself, and I said, "I have an eating disorder."

At first he seemed not to understand. Then realization dawned on him. He looked at the plate of food in front of us. We were silent for a few minutes. I was scared to say anything due to my fear of saying the wrong thing. He had to have been processing it, and he needed time and silence.

Then he broke the silence. "Anorexia? Bulimia?" he asked, and I was just happy that he didn't sound angry.

However, it didn't last long. I shrugged uncomfortably. "Both, I guess," I told him in a hushed voice. My tongue felt like it was glued to the top of my mouth. "I don't eat. When I do, I usually purge," I confessed.

"Have you purged since you came to my house?"

I shook my head.

"When was the last time?" he asked.

I struggled to remember. "Thursday night."

It was quiet again. All I could hear was my heartbeat and Ashley's breathing.

After what felt like an eternity, Ashley gripped my hand. "I had a sister," he told me. "She was seven years older than me. When I was ten, she died, and no one would tell me how or why. Then, when I was fifteen, my mom told me.

"She had an eating disorder. She would starve herself, and she'd go to the gym every day for two hours, sometime longer. She did it for three years. She'd gotten to thin her bones would stick out.

"She died. Barely anybody came to her funeral."

I felt my heart breaking for Ashley. "Why didn't you tell me?" I asked him.

In a calm voice, he countered, "Why didn't you tell about you're your eating disorder?"

I sighed. "I wanted to tell you the second you asked if I was hungry, when we were at my house. But I couldn't."

He looked at me. "Can I ask you something?" he asked.

I hesitated, but then nodded.

"The day I left your house, I went to see Sandra. She told me she knew things about you that, if I found out, I'd freak out. Is this what she was talking about?"

Somehow, I found it impossible to be angry at him for talking to Sandra about me behind my back. I shrugged but said nothing. He moved closer to me and put his arm around my shoulder, pulling me towards him in a one-armed hug.

"I love you," he told me. "You know that. And I want to help you get better. But you'll have to let me." He looked up at me. "Are you willing to let me try and help you?"

I nodded slowly. "I'll let you try… but I don't think anyone can help me at this point."

He removed his arm from my shoulders and moved around me until he was in front of me. "You're not a lost cause, Andy," he told me. "I believe in you, even if you don't."

"Okay," I said. He frowned but didn't respond. He did, however, grab my hand and began messing with my fingers.

I don't remember falling asleep, except that, when I woke back up, Ashley was carrying me to the parking lot. When he placed me back in his car, I fell back asleep.

The next morning, I awoke on my own to find myself back in my bed at Ashley's house. I looked around, hoping to find Ashley, but instead seeing a small plate with a banana on it. A note beside it read 'Something small'. I smirked sadly, unpeeled the banana and forced myself to take a bite. I tried to take a second bite, but I couldn't do it. I set the banana down on the plate and exited my room.

I walked into the living room and saw Ashley lying on the couch, sound asleep. My first thought was to wake him up, but I quickly thought better of it.

Carefully, I sat down in a chair across from him. I looked at a clock and I sat that it was almost noon. We should have been in school. Though, I wasn't heartbroken that we weren't.

Honestly, I didn't want to go back at all. If the day before was any clue as to how the remainder of the year was going to be…. I didn't want to subject myself to that. Before, I was only hit maybe once a month. I _knew _I'd be a target after this.

I felt anger bubble up inside me at the thought of Jake. How could he have done this to me? I thought. I knew he didn't like Ashley—but me? He'd called me his brother. "Brothers" were supposed to stick up for each other, not throw them to the dogs.

Did Jinxx know? Did CC? Had he told them before sending those, or printing them? Or did he work alone, putting them all up on the campus? Or had he sent them, only for someone else to print them?

And how would I _ever_ return to school? Or, how would I tell my family of me dropping out? How would the band continue? Would Jake be kicked out? I wasn't sure I was capable of kicking him out. Ashley, however, would do it in a heartbeat. I knew he would.

Then a thought struck me, and I felt myself pale just at the thought. What if Jake saw my scars? Had he stayed and watched long enough to see them? Did he get pictures of them? Maybe even a video? Had he told anybody of them? Talked to anybody?

Did Ella know anything? I hadn't seen her or Jake the day before. Maybe she'd heard of what happened and she freaked out. Maybe Jake had told her.

I was so deep in thought I haven't even realized Ashley had woken up until he placed his hand on mine. He sat down next to me, and I lied on his chest.

"What were you thinking about?" he asked me.

After only slight hesitation, I relayed all of my worries to him. I rambled on and on, until finally I shut myself up.

I looked up at him to find him smiling. "Andy," he said, "even if Jinxx and CC knew, they still helped to cause a distraction so we could get away. And have we seen Jake, or Ella? No. Because he's probably—"

He was cut off by a knock on his door, followed by the ringing of his doorbell. Ashley sighed. Pushing myself off of him, I watched his walk to the front door. Then I heard Ashley say, in a voice empty of emotion and cold as ice, "What are you doing here?"

I couldn't hear or see the person, so I stood and walked to Ashley's side. There, I saw the guy—Jake. Ella was clutching his hand. And on his face, he sported a black and blue eye.

He turned to look at me. "I'm so sorry, Andy. I didn't mean for any of this to happen. I only told the other guys, and some guy overheard. He kept asking me questions but I wouldn't answer them so he hit me. I am so sorry." All of it came out in a rush and Ella and I both tried to calm him down.

"But what about the pictures?" Ashley asked.

Jake squirmed. "I was going to show them to Jinxx and CC. The guy who did this to me," he pointed to his eye, "stole my phone."

Ella looked at us pleadingly. "Andy, you know Jake. He has a temper, but he's a good guy. He honestly didn't mean for either of you two to get hurt." She looked at Ashley. "He may not like you, and you may not like him, but he's not bad. He's a good person."

Ashley looked at me. When I nodded, he sighed. "Fine. You're forgiven—by Andy. By me? You'll have to earn that. You hurt Andy, more than he'll ever admit to anyone. I'm not forgiving you as quickly."

"I'm fine," I assured Ashley quietly.

But he shook his head. "He hurt you," he said. "And I can't forgive him when I saw you like that." He put a hand on my cheek and then dropped it.

Jake and Ella were watching us. Jake cleared his throat. "I really didn't mean to cause any harm. And you two… you look happy together."

I looked at Ashley again. "We are," I said.

Jake and Ella left shortly after that. Ashley and I walked back to the living room and lied back down on the couch.

"Do you believe him?" he asked me.

I nodded. "Jake's got a tempter, but he's not bad. He and I have known each other since we were kids. He wouldn't have done it."

Ashley was quiet. Then he said, "I do, too. But I'm still iffy about him. He doesn't like me at all."

"Neither did CC or Jinxx," I pointed out, "and they helped start the fight."

He didn't reply. Instead, he leaned down and kissed my head. "What do you want to do today?" he asked suddenly.

I laughed. "I just want to lie right here," I told him, snuggling closer to him.

I could hear the smile in his voice as he said, "That sounds good to me."

I shut my eyes and placed my head over his chest, and I listened to his heartbeat. I felt safe and happy, which was especially surprising because of what happened only the day before. But the funny thing about being with Ashley was that I could be raging and screaming, and I knew I would be calm and safe and comfortable in minutes. I felt my breathing start to fall in sync with his, and I felt myself being lulled to sleep. Though I dimly thought I slept too much, I didn't fight the tiredness I felt, and instead allowed sleep to overcome me.

Ashley Purdy

Part of me wanted to fall back asleep once he'd fallen asleep, but another part of me wanted to stay awake and think things over. I looked down at his sleeping form, at how peaceful and relaxed he appeared. I couldn't stifle the smile that tugged at my lips, but it left just as soon as it came.

Andy was so beautiful, so amazing. To learn that he struggles with an eating disorder, on top of self-injuring, was quite a lot of information. I knew, at this point, it was too late to leave him, but I didn't want to, even after finding this out. I really did love him, and I wanted nothing more than to help him as best I could.

My thoughts took a turn and I thought of my sister. I knew she was sick before she died, and long before then. But it was so long ago—it was hard to remember much. I only really remembered how thin she'd gotten, and how frail she seemed. After finding out about her ED, I became so angry at her than I felt like I hated her. I had wished she was still alive solely because I wanted to yell at her and tell her how mad I was at her. When I'd calmed down, I was just sad and scared.

Now, with Andy, I knew I wanted to help him. I wanted to help him because I couldn't help my sister. I knew, if he died because of this, I would feel empty. I loved him.

But things made more sense now, too. It explained his unhealthy thinness, and his odd eating habits. It partially explained his mood swings, and his stomach pains.

I pressed my lips to his head, kissing him softly. I was glad I promised myself to take our relationship slowly. This was so much more different than any other relationship I'd had, especially after taking in consideration that I hadn't had many. Mostly I had flings, or one night stands. I'd see a hot girl, have sex with them, and go to another girl. Or I'd see a hot girl, flirt with her endlessly, go out with her for a week or so, and then end it. Andy and I may have only been together for not quite a week, but I already knew things were different with us.

I shut my eyes, ready to fall asleep. I smiled slightly as I held Andy closer to me and fell asleep, feeling absolutely calm and relaxed.

When my dream began, I knew immediately that it was one of my memories that had gotten fuzzy over the years. I was in my old bedroom, and my sister and I were talking. We did that a lot—we didn't talk about anything in particular, but we would simply talk. I was ten years old, and it was exactly one month before she would pass away.

"Ashley, you're a pretty cool little brother," she said to me.

I grinned up at her. In the dream, after knowing what I know now, I could see how deathly thin she was. Her bones stuck out. She coughed and winced slightly, and I remember noticing that and making the comment, "Are you okay?"

And she would look at me with a smile and say, "I'm fine, Ash."

But that didn't happen in my dream. Instead, she was suddenly Andy, and he had become as thin as she was—which he wasn't far from at this point. He was smiling at me. "I'm perfectly fine," he responded with. And then he coughed and winced again, and he lied on his side, curling into a ball, with his arms around his stomach. His eyes were squeezed shut, and he still winced.

I jumped up, now my usual eighteen-year-old self, and held Andy close. I knew what I was seeing, and I didn't want to see it. This was how my sister died. Even in a dream, I couldn't stand to see Andy dying. I rained kisses on the dream-Andy, and tears began falling from my eyes.

Dream-Andy, however, pushed himself out of my grasp. Falling to his knees, he vomited—but he had nothing to vomit. Instead of dry heaves, though, blood came out of his mouth. He coughed and puked, and I found myself crying behind him, trying to find a way to comfort him, but knowing I couldn't. Dream-Andy was dying. I was seeing exactly how my sister had died, as well. I couldn't stop tears from spilling in my nightmare.

"Ashley—Ashley!" called a voice.

I jumped up and felt sweat beading my face and running down my neck. In front of me, Andy was wide-eyed and obviously worried. I felt myself begin to lose control, and I grabbed him, pulling him close to me, and burying my head in his shoulder, breathing him in, crying into him.

He put his arms around me, and I felt him rub my back, making soothing motions and sounds. But I couldn't calm down—the nightmare was still fresh in my mind. I couldn't close my eyes, and I struggled to even blink. The sight of Andy dying terrified me to the core. I needed to know he wouldn't die like that, but I knew it was a possibility, due to how thin he already was, and unhealthy.

I shuddered against him, trying to get the images and thoughts out of my head. Trying—and failing miserably. I couldn't stop the thoughts from coming in, and they swirled around my head, one after the other, and I found myself clutching Andy so tight I was surprised he wasn't crying out. I released the grip on him, and instead found his hand, and I sat myself as close to him as I could. He put his arms around me, much like I usually did to him, and clutched my other hand. I still was crying, and I found it difficult to stop.

One final picture flashed before my eyes, and it terrified me more than the sight of him vomiting up blood: Andy in a casket, being lowered into the ground, much like my sister.

That brought a whole other round of crying, and I knew I was being obnoxious. But I couldn't stop them. They horrified me like nothing else. Even the sight of my own sister being put in the ground didn't cause me to cry.

Then again, I said to myself, I didn't love her like I love Andy.

I found myself breathing deeply, trying to control my crying. I matched my breathing to Andy's, and found comfort in it. He was still breathing, still alive. He was scared, though—his hand shaking gave it away.

Finally, I stopped the tears, and simply was focusing on calming my breathing. Andy was still making soothing circles on my back, and I took comfort in his touch.

"Whatever it was, Ashley," he said, "it wasn't real."

I still focused on evening my breathing. I gave a semi-hysterical laugh and then crossed my legs underneath me, sitting Indian style, and then lowered my head. "Yes, it was," I told him. I gulped and evened my breath further. "At least, part of it was real."

He leaned down, looking me in the eyes. "Well, it's not still going on."

I nodded. I loosened my grip on his hand, but still held it tight. After several silent minutes, Andy said, "Would you mind telling me what happened?"

I looked away from his gorgeous blue eyes, and stared at my tiled living room floor. "I'll tell you if you don't mind me being an emotional mess," I said, trying to make us both smile. Andy did; I did not.

And so, I relayed to him my nightmare, from the very beginning, sitting in my bedroom and talking to my sister when I was ten years old, to Andy dying in my arms. I managed to not cry, but I started freaking out during the part with Andy. I had to calm myself down to steer clear of crying like an idiot, but only barely did I avoid that.

I couldn't look at Andy when I told him of the ending, along with the picture of him being buried. I could hardly _tell_ him of that.

Finally, he lifted a hand and turned my head towards him softly. "That won't happen to me Ashley; I won't let it."

I felt my chest constrict and my heart ache. "But what if it _does_ happen? I don't think I'll be able to go on. Not when I knew I could have prevented it," I told him, struggling to keep my words clear and understandable.

"I'm not your sister," he told me gently. "It's clear you loved her and you miss her, but I won't end up like her." He attempted to smile, but it didn't come out as well as he'd hoped. "I ate some of that banana this morning."

I felt my chest rise and contract at that. It was easier to breathe, literally. I smiled, too. "It's a start, right?" I asked him, feeling like a tiny boy, getting into something way beyond anything he could manage.

Andy nodded. "It's a start."

Because of my lack of sleep, I decided I'd go to bed earlier than usual. Andy decided he would, too. But I realized very quickly that being separated from him was a bad idea. My nightmare returned, even though I knew he'd eaten—a granola bar at lunch, and an apple for dinner.

I snuck into his room after five or so minutes to see him sitting up in bed, clutching his giraffe. He cleared his throat and said, in a shaky voice, "Can I lie down with you?"

I held out my hand, and then led him to my room. It was strange for me, being in a bed with the person I loved, and who loved me back. I took him in my arms once we were underneath the blankets, and he pressed his forehead to the crook of my neck. I fell asleep quickly, and had a peaceful, dreamless sleep


	11. Four Days Wasted

***Trigger warning: self-mutilating, -hatred.**

* * *

Sandra Alvarenga

When I walked onto the school campus Monday morning, I immediately started freaking out. Jinxx and CC had already asked me what had been going on with Andy and Ashley, and I'd told them to ask them themselves. But when we saw those flyers posted all over the school, it was hard to keep silent. I was freaking out.

And then I saw Ashley and Andy pull into the school together, and then they saw the papers. Andy clearly was scared. Then the jock decided to make fun of them, and he'd said something that pissed Ashley off, to the point where the jock decided to grab hold of Andy. Then Andy told me to cause a distraction. I told Matt, who told Jinxx, who told CC, who told Dahvie, who told Jayy. Then the six of us started one gigantic fight, kicking and punching and smacking and hitting everybody we could reach. The next thing I knew, Andy and Ashley were gone, and I grabbed all of the guys and they followed me to the parking lot, into my car.

We all knew about Andy and Ashley, even Dahvie and Jayy. They told me that Ashley had gone to them for advice. I decided it was as good a time as ever to tell them all that _I _was gay. Dahvie and Jayy cheered despite our previous mood, and Matt, Jinxx, and CC were only slightly shocked, CC especially. I'd looked at him only barely, but enough to see him nod in acceptance, to which I smiled.

Then we realized that the fight had been broken by the teachers. They were trying to figure out who had started it. CC, who was in the driver's seat, took the keys from my hand and started to drive away, leading us to my house, where we got out and went inside quickly, as though we had cops tailing us—which, to clarify, we didn't.

When we were inside, we all entered my living room, where Juliet was sitting in her pajamas, eating a bowl of popcorn. The guys all cracked up as she turned pink and sputtered. "What are you doing here?" she asked.

I told her the brief version of everything as she went back to her room and changed into day clothes. She looked horrified, and then she looked at me with surprise. "That hot guy? The one who came and you asked where he'd been all day? He's gay?" But she didn't sound offended; she sounded merely shocked. I nodded, and I heard her say, underneath her breath, "Damn."

We walked back to our living room and saw the guys all talking on the couches. I sat in the recliner chair, and Juliet sat on the arm of CC and Jinxx's couch, settling closer to CC.

We all were quiet for a few seconds. Then I got a text from Ashley, saying, _He's asleep. We're at my place. Thank you. And thank the guys, too._

When I relayed that to them, they all breathed a sigh of relief.

Then, I knew CC was back to his usual humorous self. He looked at Juliet, then to myself, and asked, "So do you two have hot girl action?"

I snorted with laughter before covering my mouth. Juliet raised an eyebrow at him before shooting back, "We're cousins. I'm living with her for the time being."

Jinxx grinned. "Excuse him. He's just a pathetic loser who has no experience whatsoever with girls."

CC rolled his eyes. "Just because you're in a committed relationship and I'm not doesn't mean I have no experience with _women_." He emphasized the last word with a wiggle of his eyebrows.

Jinxx sighed. "Whatever helps you sleep at night, CC," he said. Then his phone rang and, after checking the Caller ID, he said, "Speaking of being in a committed relationship—I need to talk to my girl."

He put the phone to his ear, and I could hear Sammi yelling from the other side of the phone. "_What the hell, Jinxx? I heard there was a—a riot! I may be sick, but that does_ not_ give you the right to start a damned riot! Tell me what happened right _now."

He stopped laughing and nodded abruptly, as though she could see it through the cell phone. But CC yelled, loud enough for Sammi to hear, "Andy and Ashley are gay for each other and the school found out!"

I threw the television remote and it hit him in the head, and I grinned. Jinxx was trying to explain everything to his girlfriend, so he walked outside and started stammering out explanations. That left me, Jayy, Dahvie, CC, Matt, and Juliet sitting in the living room, awkwardly waiting for Jinxx to come back in. Juliet moved towards the spot Jinxx sat in, and sat Indian-style on the couch.

Then Matt cleared his throat. "We should figure out a way to get the flyers down at school."

Though I didn't like him much, I had to agree. I nodded. "They're rude and whoever did it is a heartless ass. Speaking of," I added, "who _did_ do all of this?"

CC squirmed. "I think I might know," he said. It was unlike him to be uncomfortable, and I leaned forward, beckoning him to continue. He looked away. "It was Jake."

The whole room erupted in angry yells. "No!" was what the majority of us yelled. Others yelled incoherent words, muffled by other profanities.

CC sighed once the room quieted down. "He came to Jinxx and me after we left band practice. He said he found something out about Andy and Ashley, and why Ashley was in the band all of a sudden. When he said they were together, we didn't believe him. So he showed us the pictures—the exact ones that were on the flyers."

Jinxx reentered the room, his phone back in his pocket. "It's true," he said. "He took them with his phone. We could care less why Ashley's in the band, or if he and Andy were together. We don't hate Ashley, not anymore. It's Jake that doesn't like him."

CC nodded. "We're okay with him now. And, honestly, seeing Andy as happy as he is? Why would we ruin that?"

The room suddenly got serious, and we all agreed. It _was_ nice to see Andy genuinely happy again. He_ hadn't_ been happy in ages. To see the smile on his face when he talked about Ashley, or even thought about him—even in his eyes, you could see how happy he was.

Jayy spoke up. "It's nice seeing Ashley actually care about somebody." He cleared his throat. "He usually only has fuck-buddies. He legitimately loves Andy. He'd do everything in his power to keep him safe and protected. He wouldn't risk losing him."

Dahvie nodded. "We've never seen him so torn up about somebody. When he was trying to figure out if he liked him, he came to Jayy. He was… distraught, to say the least."

"Andy came to me. He was in denial," I told them. "He's never loved another guy before. He asked me how I knew I was gay, but I was no help because I just knew."

Jayy nodded. "Me, too; just like Dahvie knew he was bisexual." Dahvie smiled at Jayy.

Jinxx, CC, and Matt were nodding. "Even though we're all straight as a ruler, we get what you're saying," Matt said. "But you're right. Seeing them both this happy? Why would we want to ruin it for them?"

But that was all yesterday. Today, we all arrived at school, and there were no flyers in sight. I breathed a sigh of relief. I already knew Ashley and Andy weren't going to be there; Ashley had sent me a text saying so. He also said he knew about Andy's eating disorder, which surprised me. It had taken Andy weeks to tell me. But I wasn't jealous by any means. I was happy that Andy was finally opening up.

Matt and I walked to our first class, and we were met by only our teacher. "What are you two doing in here so early?" she asked.

We shrugged. "Just didn't want to be late," I told her carelessly.

She rolled her eyes. But then she got serious and she asked, quietly, "Is your friend okay? Andy?"

Matt and I exchanged looks. Then he asked, "Why?"

She looked sad. "I saw the pictures. I saw him being carried out by his boyfriend yesterday after school. My sister's gay—she went through this at school, too. I just want to know if he's alright."

I nodded my head once, saying, "Oh. He's okay. He's staying with Ashley for now, because his parents are out of town on a business trip. We don't think he'll be here for the next few days."

She said, "Good, good. Well, at least in my class, he's excused."

"Thank you," I said honestly. "I just wish all of his teachers were as understanding."

She nodded. "I know what you mean."

School was fairly eventful that day, surprisingly. At least once each class period, somebody would come and ask if Andy was okay. Most of the time, it was one of the quiet students, who were also picked on. I would smile and say "He's alright; thank you for asking" and then continue on with what I was doing. But I was happy. Clearly, these people had little problem with him liking another guy. Some of them were picked on themselves for being gay. They asked if I could tell him that he was a really good guy, and I promised them I'd pass it on.

But once school ended, I didn't go home. I went to Ashley's. I told him I'd come by, and he said that he wanted me to. He met me by his front door, and I couldn't help but smile and hug him when I saw him.

And then I saw Andy, and I ran to hug him. I grinned when I pulled away and saw him rolling his eyes.

"How are you doing?" he asked me.

I nodded, and told him all about school, and all of the people who asked me to tell him things for them, and what our teacher said. He smiled a little, and I grinned at Ashley, who was leaning against Andy's arm.

"So that's what's been going on?" Ashley asked.

"Yep," I said. "There hasn't been anything bad said about either of you around me." I grinned again.

They looked at each other and, though they weren't smiling with their mouths, they smiled with their eyes, Andy especially.

Andy Biersack

Being able to talk to Sandra was a blessing in disguise. Having not talked to my bestfriend in several days, I was really missing her. And being able to talk to her _and_ Ashley at the same time was practically a dream.

When she told me of the people at school who supported me, it was unbelievable. No one, except for my small circle of friends, talked to me. Even the other outcasts didn't talk to me. They hardly would even look at me. Hearing that they cared and supported me? It made me feel… happy.

When she told us that all of the guys—to include Matt—were happy for me, I thought my face would break from smiling so much. And when she told us that Jake had talked to her and said he was happy for us both, even Ashley was grinning.

I couldn't believe it. And when I told her that Ashley and I were working on our songs—writing, as well as figuring out the music—she grinned, too. She even asked to hear a sample.

Ashley and I went to the living room, where we had dozens of papers with song lyrics, and an acoustic guitar. He picked it up, made sure it was still tuned properly, and began strumming.

I sang "All Your Hate", and Ashley sang back-up. It was one we'd written together, and we both liked the most. When we finished, Sandra was grinning widely and she gave us a round of applause—complete with clapping her hands in a circle. Ashley and I jokingly took a bow, and Ashley said, "Thank you! Thank you!" as though he were in front of an entire audience. I laughed and smacked him on the arm lightheartedly.

Sandra's grinned turned into a genuine smile. "I'm happy for you two," she said seriously. "You especially, Andy."

I looked away, fighting the blush that was threatening to go into my cheeks. Ashley smiled and grabbed my hand, lacing our fingers together.

"On a serious note…" Sandra said. Ashley and I both looked back at her. "I know you know about Andy," she said to Ashley, "and his… issues." She looked at me with a nervous smile. I nodded.

Ashley did, too. "He and I talked about it already, and he's willing to try and let me help him."

Sandra looked at me with curious eyes, and I looked away at my feet. I didn't say aloud that I thought it was pointless, but they didn't need to hear that. I was letting him help me, though I saw it all as useless. To use Ashley's wording, I was a lost cause.

"How many days clean are you?" Sandra asked me.

"Four," I told her.

She frowned. She knew better than to ask me to see them. I felt horrible about them already, because I felt like I let them down.

Ashley tightened his grip on my hand, and I looked at him with a sad smile. "I'm sorry," I said to both of them.

Sandra walked forward and hugged me tight, and Ashley leaned closer to me. "You have nothing to be sorry about," he said.

I shook my head. "If I weren't so… so pathetic, I wouldn't do this to myself. If I weren't so weak…."

Sandra moved out from in front of me and Ashley took her place. Direction my eyes to his, he said, "You are _not_ pathetic, Andy. You are_ not_ weak. Don't tell yourself you are, because you're lying to yourself."

"Yes, I am," I said in a whisper. Then, louder, "I rely on slicing my own skin open to make me feel better. I rely on starving myself to make myself feel thinner, and I rely on making myself vomit when I get something in my stomach. I am not beautiful. I am not perfect. I am fat, and ugly, and stupid, and pathetic. I am _weak_."

"Andy, you are _none_ of those things. You are so beautiful—your eyes especially. You're perfect to me. You are not fat; you're thin as fuck. You aren't stupid. You aren't pathetic. You aren't ugly. Please, listen to me." He put his hands on either side of my face, trying to make me believe him.

I took several deep breaths to calm myself down, because I could feel my eyes beginning to fill. I looked away and tried to forget what they both were telling me. They were trying to convince me that I wasn't any of those things, that I was strong. But I couldn't bear to listen to them. I knew what I was and was not. I _was_ pathetic and weak. I was _not _strong.

Then Sandra announced that she had to leave. She hugged me once more, and even hugged Ashley, and then left. I sat down on Ashley's couch, pulling my knees to my chest and shutting my eyes. I could feel Ashley sitting down beside me and felt his rest his head on my arm. He grabbed my hand and held it tight again, and he kissed it softly.

Neither of us said a word. I think we both were scared to say anything. I know I was. I didn't want to say something and have it be the wrong thing to say.

Then he said quietly, "I love you, Andy."

I replied, "I love you, too."

I shut my eyes. I couldn't help but that about how I didn't deserve him. He obviously should've had someone better, someone other than me…. He didn't need me. He probably was only putting up with me until he found someone better. He was lying to me to make me feel better.

I could feel emotion building in my chest. It made sense. Someone as good as him, as popular, as handsome, wouldn't even give someone like me the time of day. I was nothing.

I stood carefully and said to him, "I think I'm going to lie down." And without another word, I walked off and locked myself in the room I was sleeping in.

On wobbly legs, I walked towards the bed and sat down. Clutching my head in my hands, I took several deep breaths. Why wouldn't he just tell me to piss off, and save me from heartbreak later on? He didn't care about me; he couldn't. He and I were like Romeo and Juliet, except without the age difference and that we weren't from opposing families. But we did, however, come from entirely different worlds: him from the popular world, and the party world, and me from the land of the Outcasts. I couldn't mean anything to him; I was practically the dirt on his shoes.

I looked towards my wallet, where I hid my razor blade. I knew I shouldn't do it, but I had to. I took it out of my wallet, and, instead of mutilating my arm as I usually did, I cut my thighs.

Only, I knew I would go too deep. I could hardly see through the tears blurring my vision, and I couldn't see exactly how deep I would cut. I only knew it was bad, because I eventually blacked out.


	12. Emergency Room

Ashley Purdy

I sat in the living room for almost twenty minutes before something told me to go check on Andy. I didn't know what it was, but I had a horrible feeling about it. The feeling intensified as I walked towards his room and knocked, with no response, not even a grunt, and then found the door was locked. Pulling my credit card from my back pocket, I ignored the horrible feeling in my chest as I wiggled it in between the door and the wall. When I heard a click, I carefully eased it open, and then I stopped in my tracks.

Andy. Pale as the sheets on his bed—except for the blood that pooled underneath him. I immediately resisted the urge to fall to my knees. I had to stay calm enough to help him. I hurried to him, trying to check for a pulse. I faintly found one.

Had he tried to kill himself?

I couldn't think about that. I pulled my cell phone out and dialed 911.

"Hello, 911. What is your emergency?" I heard coming from the other end of the line.

I took one deep breath and said in a rushed and shaky voice, "I need help. I walked into my boyfriend's room and he's covered in blood—and he's barely got a pulse, and he's got a history of self harm, and I don't know what to do—" My vision blurred as tears filled my eyes and rolled down my cheeks. I felt my chest burning and aching, and I tried to figure out the source of the blood: his legs.

The woman on the phone asked for my address and I told her as calmly as I could, which wasn't very calm at all. I had to repeat it several times for even myself to understand. When she said the ambulance was on its way, and to keep on the line with her, I found myself bawling.

It felt like an eternity before I could hear the sirens. I hung my cell phone up, and carried Andy bridal style outside, where the men were setting the stretcher out.

One man stopped me and asked, "Who are you?"

I wiped the tears off of my cheeks as I lied Andy down on the stretcher. "Ashley Purdy. I'm his boyfriend," I said thickly.

He nodded and motioned for me to enter the ambulance after Andy. I cried out a thank you and followed, holding Andy's cold hand.

The drive to the hospital was agonizing. The paramedics asked me questions about Andy—any allergies, history of self-harm, depression, and anything of the like. I answered them as best I could, but I was too focused on Andy himself to really pay attention to them. They were checking his pulse, seeing how deep the gashes were in his thighs. They wouldn't tell me anything except that we finally had reached the hospital.

They ushered him into the ER, and pushed me into the waiting room. Everybody in there stared at me, and I found myself staring back, not even noticing the blood still wet on my shirt. I pulled my cell phone out with shaky hands and attempted to dial Sandra's phone number, but failed, and I eventually gave up and asked the woman at the front desk if she could open up my contacts and find Sandra's name, and to call her. The woman looked at me with a sad expression on her face, but helped me out nonetheless. I put the phone to my ear and prayed that Sandra would pick up.

"Ashley? What's up?" she asked casually when she finally did.

I held back another round of tears. "You need to come to the ER," I said, still stifling my cries.

She immediately sounded scared. "What happened? Is it Andy?"

I couldn't handle it at that point. "I don't know what happened," I cried. "He said he was going to go to his room and when I went to check on him, the door was locked so I opened it and he was just on the bed—and he was so pale, Sandra. He was so cold. Everything was red, and I didn't know what to do—just please, get here quick."

And she did. Within five minutes, I saw Sandra, along with Juliet, running into the room. They saw me, and I saw Sandra bust out in tears—something I don't think anybody had ever seen.

"Is he okay?" she begged to know.

I put my hand over my mouth and shrugged, sitting back down in my chair. I covered my eyes and cried harder than before, but also more quietly. Sandra sat on my right, Juliet on my left, and they both leaned into me and tried to comfort me.

Then the other guys came in: Jinxx, Jake, and CC, along with Matt, Jayy, and Dahvie, and Sammi and Ella. Sandra must have called them, I realized dimly. They all gathered around me as I tried to pull myself together. All of them were pale.

Then a doctor came out and called for me. I stood and didn't even feel my legs as I walked towards him.

"He's stable for now, but is still unconscious. Unfortunately, because you aren't family to him, you can't come and see him—"

"Like hell I can't!" I yelled. Sandra walked over and tried to calm me down, but I refused to listen. "If you're trying to tell me that I can't go and see the man I love while he's potentially on his deathbed, then you are a fucked up little man. I don't care about any damned rules or laws—if he's in a coma and is dying right this second, I am not going to leave until you let me in there to see him!"

He looked at me with sad eyes as the rest of Andy's friend stood beside and behind me. They all were nodding, and the man sighed. "For now, nobody—not even family—is allowed to see him. When he can have visitors… there can be no more than four at a time." He ducked his head. "But for now, he's barely stable. We need to get him awake and make sure there is no other damage."

I wiped the last few of my tears away and nodded. Then the doctor said, "We need to ask you a few questions about Mr. Biersack."

I nodded. "Sandra's known him longer than I have so if she could help answer some questions, could she come?"

He nodded, and then led us both to what must've been his office. Then he came right out and said, "When we weighed him, he looked to be unhealthily thin. Though he has lost quite a bit of blood, it wouldn't have been enough for him to weigh that little. For his height, it's quite surprising that he _is_ as thin as he is."

Sandra cleared her throat. "He's got an eating disorder, and very, very bad self-image issues. He's convinced he's fat, so he doesn't eat and purges when he does. He's been doing it for at least three years."

The doctor wrote that down. "We noticed several cuts on his forearms. You, Mr. Purdy, said on the call to 911 that he's got a history of self-harm?"

I nodded. "He told me he's self-mutilated since January 14, 2009. Before today, the last time was Friday."

Sandra said, "Ashley's only found all of this out these past few days. I've known Andy since before all of this. He always came to me when he went too deep."

The doctor wrote it all down on his clipboard. "And where has he been living?"

"He lives with his parents," I told him, "but he's been staying with me since Saturday. His parents are out of town on a business trip."

He nodded and wrote it all down. "Any siblings?"

Sandra shook her head. "He's an only child."

"Has he eaten anything recently?"

I nodded. "He had a banana yesterday morning, a granola bar for lunch and an apple for dinner. I don't think he's eaten anything today, though."

He looked up at both of us. "And you're his boyfriend?" he asked me.

I nodded.

"Are you two sexually active?"

I shook my head.

Sandra said, "With his ex-girlfriend, he was, but not in a long while. At least, not that I know of."

The doctor made a note of it and then set the clipboard down. "He looks like he's going to make it," he told us.

I looked at him and said, "It sounds like there should be a 'but' after that."

He sighed and nodded. "He looks like he's lost a lot of blood. It may be a while before he wakes up, and he may be dizzy and confused. With patients who have been in his situation, we usually send them to a group home for a short period of time, until they're able to continue life as a normal person would."

Sandra shook her head violently. "He can't. He's already dropping out of high-school because of the dumb-fucks there who _made_ him feel this way. Just yesterday, there were pictures plastered all over the school of him and Ashley kissing, and they were about to beat his face in. If they catch wind of him going to mental home, he _will _get his face beat in, along with several broken bones."

I nodded. "I was on the football team, and they all hate him. They probably hate me now, too, just because I'm with him. Neither of us can go back or we'll get murdered. They don't like us, and they will do everything in their power to hurt him if they he goes to his home and comes back."

He looked at both of us and then nodded. "He'll need to be supervised twenty-four seven, then."

We both nodded.

Going back into the waiting room made me want to start crying all over again. Seeing all of mine and Andy's friends holding on to each other and trying to keep themselves together was heartbreaking. Even the other guests were coming over and giving their condolences. When they saw Sandra and I coming back out, they sent CC over to ask us what happened.

We had no choice but to tell them about Andy. We couldn't make any story to explain why he was found in a puddle of blood. Sandra told them everything—of Andy's perception of himself, his depression, his self-injuring, and his eating disorder.

"You both knew, but you didn't tell us?" Ella said, looking hurt.

"We had to respect his privacy," I told her. "I accidently found out about his cutting. He was terrified to tell me about his eating disorder. He doesn't want people finding out and using it against him."

She nodded. Jake held her close and she rested her head against his chest. Jinxx grabbed Sammi's hand. Dahvie leaned against Jayy's side. Even Juliet was leaning against CC for support. I had to look away to keep from crying again.

I couldn't help myself from looking at the ER doors every few seconds. Part of me was praying for the doctor to come out and say "He's awake; you can come see him now". Another part of me was scared to see him, because I knew we would have to talk about why he cut so deep. Then I looked at Sandra for support, and she put her hand on mine and held tight.

"When he would cut too deep, I would clean it up and put a bandage on it," she told me. "I'd ask him why he did it, and he would always tell me the same thing. He wanted to stop hurting, to stop being so confused."

"But he was so happy," I said brokenly.

She shook her head. "You could say Andy has bipolar-like mood swings. And with what you two were arguing about before I left…."

I buried my head in my hands. "So this is all my fault."

Our entire group was watching Sandra and me, listening to what we were saying. I paid them no mind.

Sandra said, "No, it's not. You were telling him the truth. Remember me telling you about his messed up way of thinking?"

I reluctantly nodded.

"Take that and mix it with his self-hatred," she told me. "Everything inside of him is telling him that he's nothing, that he's useless. He's been like this for _years_. It's why he doesn't eat, and why he cuts. He's built up something of a mask for him to hide behind, and he's perfected it. He's trying to believe you, and I know he wants to, but everything he's thought for the past three years is conflicting with what you're telling him now. He just wants to stop being so confused."

I knew she was saying nothing but the truth, but it didn't hurt any less. "I just want him to be happy," I said in a small voice. "I don't want him to have to depend on hurting himself. I want him to know that he's beautiful and he's perfect to me."

She looked at the floor. "He's trying to believe it, Ashley. He really is. He wants to believe you love him, and he wants to believe that you care about him. But everything he's thought…. It's telling him that you don't, and that you're probably just playing with him. _He_ knows you aren't, but everything inside of him is telling him that you are, so he's confused and doesn't know who to trust. He's so used to trusting only himself and me—now there's this new guy who says he loves him, and he doesn't know what to think."

I didn't reply to that. It made sense in a distorted way.

It was midnight when the doctor came out and told us that he was waking up. He recommended only having one or two people in at first, and the entire group said Sandra and I should go in. The doctor led us to his room, and I started crying again when I saw Andy, still pale as a ghost, lying on his bed.

I tried to walk to him, but my legs were shaking so bad that Sandra had to help me. Then I curled up beside Andy, and cried into his chest.

"Ashley—it's okay; don't cry," he said weakly. He put his arms around me, and I scooted closer to him.

Sandra said, "You've been unconscious for about four hours. He and the rest of us have been in the waiting room since eight."

I heard Andy say, "I am so sorry, both of you. I am so sorry, Ashley." I could hear him beginning to cry, and he rested his head on mine. "I never meant to hurt you. I don't know why I did that, or why I went that deep. But I couldn't see and I was so confused and please, please forgive me."

I responded by kissing him through my tears. "Never," I said, "do that to me again." I punctuated each word with a kiss. I could feel his tears mixing with mine on our cheeks, and I kissed his forehead, both his cheeks, and his lips one more time before dissolving into tears again on his chest.

At some point, CC and Jinxx joined us. When they saw me and Andy crying on each other, they sat down beside Sandra and talked quietly to her. Andy, I don't think, noticed them coming in.

"I won't," he promised. "I swear I won't. I promise. Cross my heart," he said. "I am so sorry," he repeated.

I could feel his heart beating rapidly, and his chest rising and falling just as quickly. I sat up and put my hands on either side of his face, taking deep breaths. He followed my lead, and he slowed his breathing, and we both slowed our crying as well. Though, tears still slipped down our cheeks. Grabbing his hand, I lied back down on his chest, though we both looked at Jinxx, Sandra, and CC.

The guys were looking at us both and then Jinxx said, "You don't have to apologize to us, man."

I felt Andy shake his head. "Yes, I do. You guys are in the band with me. We talked every day for years. I never told you anything. You only found out because I'm in the hospital."

CC shook his head. "We aren't mad at you. We couldn't be. Yes, we think you should've told us, but it's your business." He shrugged.

But Andy still shook his head. "When this band takes off, we're going to be living together, touring. I should've told you guys."

We heard a knock on the door and saw Matt standing outside with Juliet. CC and Jinxx stood and said goodbye, hugging Andy as best they could. I refused to move. I was still crying, but silently. When Matt and Juliet came in and sat down, they tried to keep the mood happy and light. However, between myself still crying and Andy trying to keep from crying, it was difficult. Mostly Sandra talked to them.

When Jayy and Dahvie traded places with Matt and Juliet, they took one look at me and I saw sadness in their eyes that I hadn't seen before. I knew I looked a mess—my hair was a knotted mess, and what little eyeliner and mascara I wore was probably running down my cheeks. But I couldn't care less. I needed to know Andy was alive and well. I needed him.

They didn't try to make our conversation happy and light. They came right out and asked Andy, "What the fuck?"

I said, still in a small voice, "Please don't yell at him."

They looked at me and Dahvie nodded. Jayy, however, looked pissed. "Why did you do that, Andy? You don't know how messed up Ashley's been. You've been in a miniature _coma_. And why? Because you didn't think. And that lack of thinking fucked Ashley up. Did you know he called 911 after he found you passed out in your room? He didn't let go of your hand in the ambulance? He yelled at the doctor because they wouldn't let him in to see you when it looked like you were on your deathbed?"

Andy let him ride his wave of anger and sat there silently. When Jayy calmed down a little bit, Andy looked down at me. "You did?" he asked quietly.

I looked down and buried my face in his chest. "I don't care right now. I just want to know you're safe and alright."

Sandra looked at Jayy. "We all have lapses in judgment; you would know."

He frowned and walked out. Dahvie looked at us and apologized before following his boyfriend out. Then the last of the girls came in: Sammi and Ella.

Though I wasn't particularly close to either of them, it was nice to see them show their support for their boyfriends' bandmate. They clearly were worried about him, and they appeared slightly worried about me as well. I didn't pay attention to what they said.

When they left, it was only Sandra and I with Andy. I heard him talking to her, asking about what all had happened. I was slowly falling asleep, still pressing one ear to his heart and curled beside him.

Andy Biersack

"He's been a mess," Sandra said to me after I asked her what Ashley had been like. "I've never seen someone so… terrified. When the doc said he wouldn't be able to come in because he wasn't married, he was pissed—the kind of pissed someone gets when they're also scared shitless. When he went off on the doc, he said only small groups of four could come in."

I stared up at the ceiling, then down at my boyfriend, who had fallen asleep on my chest. "I didn't want to hurt him," I said honestly. "I didn't want to hurt any of you."

Sandra looked me in the eyes, and said, quietly, "What was going through your mind?"

I wiped the tears off of my cheeks with my free hand. "I don't deserve Ashley. I really don't. And we shouldn't be together. He's popular and I'm… I'm not. He's beautiful and I'm not. He's smart and I'm not. We're incompatible."

Sandra said, "Bullshit." She shook her head. "I have _never_ seen somebody so in love. Does it really matter if one of you is popular and the other isn't? I doubt he gives a damn. You shouldn't either. And, Andy, you_ are_ beautiful. You _are _smart. I know you don't believe us, but you have to realize it sooner or later."

I looked down at the angel in my arms. I loved him so much it hurt. Knowing I hurt him so bad left me heartbroken. Seeing him so fragile, so emotional… because of me… that hurt more than anything else.

"I just don't feel like I deserve him," I told her. "He's done nothing but help me since we started talking to each other. And I know I've only really known him for a week, but I love him. It _hurts_ because I love him as much as I do."

She moved her chair closer to my side, and she looked me in the eyes. "Listen to me," she said. "He loves you, regardless of your problems. He has stuck with you even after finding all of this out. Even after that fight at school, he stood beside you. After finding you lying in a pool of your own blood, he stood beside you and saved you. And I highly doubt you haven't helped him, either. _He loves you_, Andy. Just accept that."

I looked back down at him and brushed his hair away from his face with my fingers. For the first time since I'd woken up, he looked peaceful.

Sandra's words sunk in. Ashley _did_ love me. He _did_ care about me. If he didn't and if he _were_ only using me until he found somebody else, he wouldn't be as torn up as he was. He wouldn't have yelled at the doctors. I felt a smile tug on my lips. I looked at Sandra again and smiled through my tears.

At that moment, we heard a hesitant knocking on the door. I looked over and saw Jake, standing by himself, wringing his hands together.

"Hi," he said quietly. "Can I come in?"

I nodded and watched him enter the room, sitting in the chair beside Sandra. He looked at Ashley, who was still sleeping soundly, then at me.

"I really hope I don't have anything to do with you being in here," he said in a thick voice.

I shook my head. "I'm in here of my own accord," I told him.

He looked at me sadly. "Why didn't you tell any of us? We would've understood. I mean, it's not like we don't understand now, but you could've told us."

"I wanted to," I said honestly. "I wanted to tell all of you so many times. But you don't understand how hard it is to talk to anybody about it. Even with Sandra… and Ashley…. It's hard. Unless you have the issues I do, you can't understand. You can sympathize, and you can pity us, and you can feel bad for us and want to help up, but you can't really understand the way we think and why we do the things we do."

He looked at me for a few seconds and nodded. Then he looked at the clock on the wall, and he said, "I'm going to go and let you sleep. I think Ella and I will come by after school and visit."

I nodded. "That sounds good," I said. "Goodbye, Jake."

"Bye, Andy," he replied, and then exited the room.

It was easy to fall asleep, and I woke up still feeling slightly tired. I looked down and saw Ashley still sleeping beside me, and I smiled despite myself. _He loves me_, I thought. I scooted closer to him and shut my eyes again, falling back to sleep.


	13. Phone Call

I think I had a miniature heart attack when I woke up and Ashley was gone. I looked around the entire room, but he wasn't there. Nobody was. I was freaking out by the time Sandra walked in and told me Ashley was showering and changing clothes.

I lied back down, feeling oddly cold. Sandra and I spoke a little, though our conversation was very boring. When I saw the unmistakable head of Ashley, I smiled widely and scooted over so he could sit beside me.

He looked much better now that he did the night before. For one, his shirt wasn't stained with dried blood. His hair was shinier and silkier. His jeans weren't wrinkled and bloodied. His eyes weren't nearly as haunted or scared.

He greeted me with a soft kiss on my lips and I hugged him tightly.

"How'd you sleep?" he asked me.

I shrugged. "I woke up once, but fell asleep again."

He nodded. "Good," he said and held my hand, interlacing our fingers.

Sandra then said she had to leave and shower, too. We hugged and said goodbye, and then it was only Ashley and I.

He held me tightly, pressing his forehead in the spot between my neck and my shoulder. I rested my head on his shoulder and kissed it softly.

Softly, Ashley said, "Please don't do this again; I don't think I'll be able to handle it."

I nodded. "I won't. And if I get the urge to do it, I'll tell you right away."

He picked his head up and frowned. "I wish you'd realize how much I love you, Andy," he said. "I want you to know just how beautiful you are."

I caressed his cheek with my hand, running my thumb over his cheekbone. "I love you. And I'm trying to believe you, I really am. And I'm getting there." I dropped my hand. "But it'll take time."

He took my hand again. "I know it will," he said. "I just want to help in any way I can."

I gave him a small smile.

He looked at the clock on the wall, which told us that it was nearly two in the afternoon. Then he looked at me with a gentle yet worried look in his eyes. "Do you want to eat something?"

For just a quick second, I felt fear. I did my best to shake it off, though it still remained faintly. I barely managed a nod.

"Do you want a milkshake? It's good for hunger and thirst," he repeated my words and I had to smile. I nodded. But when he stood and began walking away, I yelled, "No!"

He looked back with wide eyes. I covered my mouth. "I don't want to be away from you," I mumbled in embarrassment.

He nodded, and then he walked over and helped me out of bed. However, I found it difficult to walk due to the current state of my thighs. I wore thin hospital scrubs, and Ashley had informed me that they had to use stitches to close my wounds. Ashley sat me back down, and then pulled the wheelchair from the other end of the room to my bed. I looked at him as if to say, "Seriously?" as he picked me up and set me down on the chair.

He grinned as he wheeled me out of my room and into the elevator, down to the cafeteria. He ordered a medium chocolate milkshake and a burger for himself, and then walked back over to me and sat down across from me, holding his burger and my shake.

He handed me my drink and I sipped it slowly, looking around the cafeteria. Both patients and visitors were talking and laughing and eating. I saw one girl, smiling and telling a little boy something. She was beautiful, even with her lack of hair. Her expertly made up eyes made up for it. Beside her, the boy also was missing all of his hair, and he had tears in his eyes. But after hearing what the girl was saying, he laughed and was smiling.

It made me wonder: the girl and boy had no choice but for people to know why they were in the hospital. People looked at them with wonder and support, regardless of who they were as a person. But what about me? If people found out why I was in the hospital, they wouldn't look at me the same way they looked at the girl. If I was lucky, I wouldn't get looked at like a freak.

I looked back down at my milkshake. I sipped it slowly. Across from me, Ashley was already finished with half of his burger.

"How are you?" I asked him abruptly.

He shrugged. "I'm good. A little tired, but good." He smiled.

I frowned. "I'm sorry," I said again.

His smile softened and he placed his hand on mine. "You don't have to apologize for everything."

"But I _am_ sorry," I told him.

He was quiet, and then he picked up his burger wrapper and stood. I picked up my milkshake and held it in my hands as Ashley started rolling me away. I felt like crying all of a sudden. I was so… helpless. I couldn't do anything without help.

As if to enforce that thought, when we reached my hospital room, he picked me up and sat me back down on the bed. I moved over enough for him to sit next to me, which he did. I rested my head on his shoulder.

Neither of us said much. I mostly was trying to ignore the pain in my thighs but also trying to enjoy my time with Ashley. I was doing very well on the latter of the two; I felt like I was practically glowing from the inside out, despite my stinging pain.

"Can I ask you something?" I said suddenly.

He rested his head on mine and I could feel him nod.

"What am I going to tell people when they ask why I was in here?"

He didn't reply immediately, but I knew he was going to. Sure enough, he said, "You don't have to tell them anything."

I shut my eyes. I knew he would say something similar to it, but it wasn't what I wanted to hear. He seemed to realize that because he added, "You could tell them you were attacked by a savage beast." I could hear the smile in his voice and even I had to laugh at that.

"I should tell people that just to see their faces," I said with a grin.

"Or you were thrown into a tank with evil piranhas," he recommended.

"I could've been stranded in a room with hungry wolves," I joked.

He laughed. "You see? You don't have to tell them anything," he said.

I smiled and nodded, already feeling more at ease about my situation. Then I shut my eyes and moved closer to Ashley. Within moments, I could hear him falling asleep—his breath evening out, his chest rising and falling slowly. I, too, started to fall asleep. Curling up closer to him, I fell asleep.

Jake Pitts

Ella and I walked in and saw Andy and Ashley sleeping together on Andy's bed. It was strange—seeing my friend sleeping with another man, and also seeing just how comfortable and peaceful he looked. I looked down at Ella. "Do you think we should wake them up or let them sleep?" I asked her.

She pointed to the chairs and murmured, "Let them sleep. We can wait until they wake up to talk to them. I doubt they've gotten any decent sleep in days."

I nodded and followed her. She and I sat down, myself still watching Andy and Ashley.

"You can't deny he loves Andy," Ella suddenly said as if she was reading my mind.

I nodded reluctantly. "I know he does," I said. "But part of me doesn't want to believe it."

She looked at me. "Is it because you've known him for so long?" she asked.

I shrugged. "I don't know. But I'm happy for him—for both of them."

She nodded.

It wasn't too long after we arrived that they began to wake up… at least, Ashley began to wake up. He only stirred at first, and then he actually looked and saw Ella and myself.

"When did you two get here?" he said sleepily

I said, "Not long ago; about fifteen minutes or so."

He gave a short nod of his head, and then he yawned. He repositioned himself so that he was sitting up, but Andy was still lying down. When he was situated, Andy had his head on Ashley's lap, and Ashley was playing with his hair.

We were all quiet. It was slightly awkward, due to his knowing of my previous dislike of him and also due to my knowledge of his disliking of me. But I didn't hate him now. Considering he saved one of my closest friends and bandmates, it was hard to hate the guy. And his dislike of me was entirely, completely one-hundred percent understandable—I hurt both of them both by my stupid, drunken actions.

And then, as if he read my mind he said, "If anybody else says they're sorry I think I'm going to rip my hair out." But he was smirking, so I didn't think he meant any harm.

To be sure, I asked, "Is everything okay between us?"

He shrugged. "You only did one thing to piss me off. I've cooled off. Yeah, I think it was a stupid thing to do, but it wasn't your fault. And taking into account what's happened recently… I don't think we've got anything to worry about as far as our 'friendship'."

He didn't have to make air quotations but I knew what he meant. I cleared my throat. "If it means anything to you, I don't hate you. I don't think I ever did. But what you did… you saved him." I looked down at mine and Ella's hands.

He was quiet for a second, and then he said, "I love him. If he died… if he'd killed himself… I don't know what I'd do."

I looked back up at him. He was looking down at Andy, still gently curling his hair around his finger. I looked down at Andy, who had moved just enough to fit more comfortably against Ashley. He was breathing lightly and calmly.

Ella then said, "I'm happy for you two. It's obvious how much you care about each other." She smiled. "Even unconscious, he can't stand to be away from you."

Ashley, too, smiled. "I don't think I can stand to be away from him either," he admitted. "It took all of mine and Sandra's willpower for me to leave this morning and shower."

I looked at Ella to see her smiling in a shy manor. "I know I'm the newest in Andy's group of friends, except for probably you, but I could see… something… was going on with Andy. I guess I was just scared to ask him, because I didn't know him at all." She looked at me. "I asked Jake, but he didn't know anything. I even went to Jinxx and Sammi…."

Ashley nodded. "I could see something, too. I talked to Sandra, and she told me there _was_ something going on with him, but that I'd have to wait for him to tell me. I found out about his cutting when Jake took those pictures." He laughed weakly. "He was scared that you found out about it," he told me. "And he told me everything else Monday when we were hiding in the classroom."

We all were quiet for a moment. Then Ella told him, "You seem to be taking it all well, what with… everything."

He shrugged. "I knew someone who struggled with the same things as Andy a long time ago."

Ella hesitated and then asked, "Do I know this person?"

I saw Ashley hesitate. Then, silently, he shook his head. But it seemed to be the last thing he wanted to talk about. When I saw his eyes, I saw a shadow of fear and… mourning.

I may not have personally known Ashley, but we all grew up together. In almost a whisper, I said, "Your sister."

Ella looked at me as if to say "Huh?" and Ashley looked at me with such a horrible look in his eyes—so sad, so broken—that it hurt me to even continue looking at him.

"Yes," he said in a broken voice. "My sister."

Ella reached forward and placed a hand on top of Ashley's. She said nothing for a while. When she took her hand away, she sat against the wall. "I knew someone, too. She had to go to rehab…. When she came back, she was a different person, and not in the good way. She… ended her life a few months after she came home."

"I'm sorry," Ashley said quietly.

Just then Andy stirred. Ashley leaned down far enough to look into his eyes, and he gave Andy such a smile that I'd never seen before on his face. "Hello," he said softly

I didn't see Andy's face, but I could see Ashley's, and it was so bright and sweet that I felt almost jealous. Then Andy got up and sat in between Ashley's legs, holding Ashley's arms around his waist.

When he saw Ella and I, his eyes widened. Then he said, "Hey."

I waved lazily. Ella smiled at him.

"When did you two get here?" he asked us both.

I shrugged. "Maybe fifteen or so minutes; we've been talking to Ashley."

He nodded. "You two are… okay?"

Behind him, Ashley nodded and said, "Yeah, we're okay."

Andy nodded. Then he yawned. "Has anybody else come to visit?" he asked.

"Not that I know of," Ashley answered.

"Oh, okay," he replied. Then he relaxed against Ashley. He, Ashley, Ella, and I all spoke about random topics, varying from school, to music, to clothes. Andy commented that he needed real clothes the second he was allowed to wear them. He also made the comment that he needed a real shower before he went insane.

And, surprisingly, he brought up needing a haircut.

"A new beginning, you know?" he told Ashley and me.

Ashley released Andy's hands and began fiddling with Andy's hair. "How short do you want it?"

He shrugged. "Shorter on one side, the longer side about chin length," he said to us. "But maybe just short all around and only keeping some bangs."

Ella looked at him curiously. "They'd both bring out your cheekbones—especially the first one."

Andy nodded. "And I'd get the dead hair off. I colour it too much, and all the teasing and hairspray is practically killing it."

Ashley argued, "I do the same to my hair but it's not as damaged."

I nodded, too. "Same here," I said.

Andy rolled his eyes. "I also bleach bits of my hair, and I don't get it done professionally so it isn't as healthy."

None of us could argue that—only Ella had ever bleached her hair, and she agreed wholeheartedly.

When I checked my watch, I saw that it was nearly time for Ella and me to leave and get dinner. We apologized for leaving so soon, but said goodbye nonetheless, and we left.

Andy Biersack

"That was fun," I said.

I could feel Ashley shrugging. "It wasn't as awkward as I thought it would've been."

I grinned at that. "It wasn't that bad," I said with a roll of my eyes.

"Fine, you're right," he said, and I could hear him smiling.

"I'm really glad all of the guys are accepting it as well as they are," I said honestly. "Jake especially, you know?"

"I understand, and I'm glad, too. It means fewer asses for me to kick," he joked. I smacked him on the arm with a laugh.

"You know what else I'm happy about?" he asked me. When I shook my head, he said, "I'm happy you're happy." He kissed my neck and then rested the side of his face there.

I smiled. "It sucks that I had to go through all of this to feel this way, but I'm glad I'm feeling better, too." I lifted our hands and kissed the back of his.

Part of me then wondered what the current state of my thighs were. I was scared to look at them, for fear I'd start crying again, but I knew I had to check. I'll do it later, I told myself. There's no need to freak myself out when I'm with Ashley. He's dealt with me enough already.

Ashley was saying, "When you get out, we can go get your hair cut, if you still want it done. Maybe we could even go and have a mini vacation." I grinned.

"A mini vacation… we could go to an amusement park, or the movies," I suggested. "And play games all day."

He laughed. "An amusement park sounds perfect. And maybe we could even see if anybody is touring near us—maybe we could go to a concert."

"Summer should be starting soon—maybe we could go to Warped this year. I hear they have an awesome lineup."

"Falling in Reverse, Motionless in White, Of Mice and Men… sounds like a plan." I could hear the grin in his voice.

I sighed. "I would love to sing at Warped. Do you know how awesome that'd be?"

I felt him nod. "One day, we'll play there," he said confidently.

Neither of us said anything for a few minutes. I was thinking silently about how we still we still needed a band name. When I brought it up to Ashley, he shrugged.

"It needs to be something that sounds good when people chant it," he said. "I mean, it sounds awesome when people chant 'KISS' or 'Motley Crue'."

I nodded. "It's got to be interesting, though. How else are people going to remember it?"

Both of us thought for the next few minutes, trying to come up with a band name. And then, suddenly, my cell phone rang.

I didn't even know it had been in there; it apparently was in a pile of clothes that someone had brought for me. Ashley reached over and grabbed it, handing it to me after reading 'Dad' on the Caller ID.

I gulped and pressed "Talk".

"Hey, Andy," he said casually.

"Hi, Dad," I said in reply. I crossed my fingers, hoping he didn't know I was in the hospital. He'd know sooner or later, but I preferred later.

"What's been going on?"

I looked at Ashley, who'd moved to sit in front of me. I said, in as normal a tone as I could manage, "Oh, you know, just hanging out with friends."

He laughed. "I'm just calling to check up on you. We haven't heard from you in a few days; we thought you went and got yourself kidnapped or something."

I laughed for his benefit, but everything inside me was scared. What if he knew and he was only ignoring it?

"Is everything okay?" he asked suddenly. His carefree tone was gone.

I barely managed to choke out, "No." It was pointless to lie and say everything was fine when I could hardly speak.

"What's wrong? What happened?" he asked immediately. I could hear my mom in the background, asking what was going on.

I looked at Ashley desperately. Carefully, he held his hand out for my cell phone, and then when I placed it in his hand, he spoke calmly and maturely.

"Mr. Biersack, my name is Ashley. Andy's been in the hospital since seven or eight last night."

I cringed when I heard my dad yelling. "_What do you mean, he's been in the hospital_?"

Ashley reached forward and held my hand tightly. He looked at me, and in his eyes I could hear his unspoken question. I nodded.

"Sir, Andy suffers from serious depression, an eating disorder, and self-injuring. He's been staying with me since Friday, and I found him in the guest bedroom unconscious and covered in blood. I called 911 immediately, and he's being taken care of."

I could hear Dad talking to Mom, telling her to pack their things, that they were coming home.

"_And who are you, exactly_?" I heard my dad ask.

He looked at me, and I, again, nodded. I was sure I was hurting his hand with the intensity that I was clutching it, but he said nothing. "I'm Ashley Purdy, Sir; Andy's boyfriend."

I heard nothing but silence. Then, I heard him say, "_Thank you for saving our son. We're on our way home now_."

He hung up.


	14. Family

Sandra came by my room in the hospital just an hour later, when Ashley had finally calmed me down. She noticed at once that something was wrong. When I told her that my mom and dad were coming home, she assisted Ashley in keeping me calm enough that the nurses wouldn't get suspicious.

"I shouldn't have told him; I should've lied and said everything was fine," I told Ashley. I was being held in Ashley's arms, and he was murmuring song lyrics in my ear.

He stopped long enough to say, "Don't be silly. If he came home and found out about it, he would be pissed. And I don't think this is something you can hide. You can hardly walk."

"Only because I'm sore," I countered, "and I'd be fine if he came home on the scheduled time."

He didn't respond. Sandra, on the other hand, said, "No you wouldn't, Andy. But either way, he knows now and you can't go back in time and change that."

I wasn't assured at all, but I didn't say anything. I listened to the song lyrics that were still being sung in my ear.

* * *

**Ashley Purdy**

"This isn't quite how I planned on meeting your parents," I said in an attempt to lighten the mood.

It didn't work.

I held Andy close, not saying anything else. I wracked my brains for more song lyrics, but couldn't think of anything else that I hadn't already sung. I settled for keeping quiet, and I lied down, pulling Andy down with me. I covered us both in a blanket and then returned to holding him close to me.

It felt like years away when I heard his breathing even out, and his chest rose and fell steadily.

It felt like light-years away when we heard somebody knocking on the door.

Sandra, who still was in the room, waved an older couple in, and I knew they were Andy's parents.

They crossed to the other side of the bed and saw Andy and me lying together. "Ashley?" said the man quietly, and I nodded.

"You saved him?" he asked.

I nodded.

"Thank you," he replied. He gulped. "What happened?"

I looked at Sandra. "I think I'm going to redirect that question to Sandra—I don't want to wake Andy up. He hasn't slept well."

Mr. Biersack nodded, and he and his wife turned and sat down beside Sandra, who explained to them quietly everything that had happened in their absence. She also told them of everything else, but that was to be expected. His parents said nothing until Sandra was finished, and they both looked simply shocked.

"He's been dealing with this… for years… and we never even noticed," his father said.

"Mr. Chris," Sandra said, "hardly anybody noticed. Up until all of this, only I knew. Ashley found out Saturday about the cutting and Monday about his eating disorder."

His dad looked at me. "Thank you for taking care of him," he said. "You, too, Sandra," he added. We both nodded.

Then his mother looked at me. "So, um, are you… gay?"

I shrugged. "I don't know. All I know is I love Andy."

Sandra said to them, with a look at Andy, "He's been freaking out about you coming home. We only managed to calm him down about an hour ago, and that was when he fell asleep."

"Not that we aren't glad that you all are keeping him company," his dad said, "but how are you allowed to stay with him? You aren't family."

I hid my head as best I could and mumbled, "I may have lost my temper when they told me I couldn't see him."

I could hear Sandra telling them quietly what I'd said to the doctor. I tried my best to ignore them, though. I could tell Andy was waking up. He turned around and rested his head against my chest, and I rewrapped my arms around him. I watched his striking blue eyes flutter open, and I couldn't help but smile—he looked like a kitten.

"Who were you talking to?" he asked, closing his eyes again and moving closer to me.

I looked at his parents, who were now looking at Andy and I. I took a deep breath and nudged Andy under the chin with my finger. He looked back up at me, and pointed at his mom and dad. He looked over his shoulder at them and his eyes widened, and he turned right back around and looked at the sheets between us.

"Andy…" his mom said.

He shut his eyes and looked determined to ignore her.

I put my free hand on his cheek. "Andy, please talk," I said quietly.

He opened his eyes yet again and his blue eyes displayed fear. After a few seconds though, he nodded. He and I sat up, and he grabbed my hand underneath the blankets.

"Hi, Mom, Dad," he said. I tried to rub soothing circles on his hand; I'm not sure they worked.

"Andrew," his mom said. "Why didn't you tell us?"

I saw him take another deep breath. "I couldn't. It was hard enough for me to talk to Sandra about it."

"What about this young man here? Was it hard to talk to him?" his dad asked.

Andy looked at me with fear in his eyes. I nodded, letting him know he could say anything. He did. "Ashley found out accidently."

When it was clear he wouldn't say anything else, I added, "I found out about part of it Saturday afternoon. I'll be honest… I freaked out. I ran off and went to Sandra, and she convinced me to go back to Andy."

Andy looked at me with worried eyes. Under his breath, he asked me, "Do you want to tell them about your sister?"

I whispered back, "Not yet."

He nodded.

His father asked, "Were you ever planning on telling us?"

Andy didn't say a word as he shook his head. His grip on my hand tightened.

"Why not?" his mother asked. When he shook his head again, she asked a second time.

He shut his eyes and I could tell he was getting frustrated. I tried to soothe him without his parents seeing, but it was difficult. All I could do was hold his hand reassuringly.

When his father said, "Andrew, answer your mother," Andy was turning red.

Through gritted teeth, he said, "I just couldn't."

It looked like his dad was about to say something, but his mom put a hand on his arm, hushing him. I placed my hand on Andy's back, also trying to calm him down. He turned slightly, just enough to rest his head on my shoulder. The room was silent. Not even Sandra said a word.

Then Andy's mother cleared her throat. "Well, your birthday's coming up soon. You'll be eighteen. It would be pointless to try and tell you to stay home, so… I guess you can stay with Ashley when you're released."

His head shot up and his eyes were wide. "Are you serious?"

His dad, however, thought otherwise. "Like hell he can!"

His mom looked at her husband. "Chris, he's almost a man. If we were in this situation, would you want to be with the person you love?"

"That's different!" he said.

"How?" Sandra asked him.

He looked from his wife to Sandra, and turned red. With a glance at me, he said, "I don't know him. Up until now, I've never even heard his name come from Andrew's mouth."

Sandra countered, "Hasn't Ashley already proven you can trust him by, oh, I don't know, saving your son's life?"

Andy and I clung to each other, watching the conversation bounce from person to person. Part of me thought his dad had a point; but another part thought that being able to spend all day with Andy was wonderful. His mom clearly thought so, and Sandra and Andy, too. But his dad thought otherwise, clearly.

However, he seemed to realize that it was four against one. He threw his hands up in the air and exclaimed, "Fine! Fine. Stay with your boyfriend. But I want to have a word with him." He stood and walked to the door, beckoning me to follow. I kissed Andy's head softly and gave his hand another squeeze before standing and leaving to follow his dad.

We stopped only a little bit away from his room. He looked as though he was nothing more than a scared, concerned father.

"Let's cut to the chase, Ashley," he said. "You say you love my son, but Andy hasn't yet said he loves you back in my presence. Though, judging by his actions and the way he looks at you, I wouldn't doubt it for a second." His eyebrows furrowed.

"I'll let him live with you until he wants to come back to us. But if I hear even the smallest talk of you doing anything to him—anything at all—I'll drag him back to my house before you'll even know what's going on."

Though I paled slightly, I nodded. "Fair enough," I told him. "But, Sir, I would never do anything that Andy wouldn't be one-hundred percent comfortable with. Right now, I just want him to be comfortable, happy, and safe. That's my first priority. Anything else isn't important. I love him. I wouldn't risk hurting him any more than he already is."

He looked at me for a while. Neither of us said a word, but there seemed to be an unspoken conversation, an unspoken acceptance of each other. He was a worried father, trying to protect his only child. I was a worried boyfriend, trying to protect the person I loved.

I held out my hand, trying to mask my nervousness. But he grasped it firmly and shook it, and even pulled me into a hug. "Thank you," he said against my ear. "Thank you."

* * *

A few hours later, after we rejoined Andy, his mom, and Sandra, his parents announced that they had to go back to their house. We all said goodbye, and we even received hugs, and then they left. I was sitting beside Andy again and was holding his hand, and he was leaning against my side.

"That wasn't as bad as I thought it would be," he said quietly.

I nodded. "Maybe a little awkward, but at least they don't hate me," I replied.

"Actually," he said, "Mom loves you already. She also thinks you're cute."

I couldn't help but grin. "I guess that's better than her hating me."

"That's true," he said, and I felt him nod. Then he pushed me down onto the bed and rested his head on my chest. "I want to go home," he said, though it was muffled slightly.

"Home as in…?" I asked.

"Your house," he replied. "I want to go home."

I pulled him into my arms and kissed his forehead. "Me too," I said.

* * *

**Andy Biersack**

"I don't want to be here anymore," I told him.

He nodded, but he didn't say a word. I didn't mind, though. The silence was comforting. I was allowed to, essentially, live with Ashley. Once I left here, I could pack my clothes, and move in with him. I was going to live with the man I loved.

I couldn't help from pressing myself closer to him. "When do you think I'll be able to leave?" I asked him quietly.

He took his time before answering, and then he said, "I'm not sure. They said they wanted to make sure you were doing alright before letting you go anywhere. And I think part of that 'alright' is being able to walk."

I frowned, but I knew he was only telling the truth. I knew I had to check my thighs; it had been bothering me all day. Taking a deep breath, I pushed my blankets away from my legs and rolled the scrub pants up, which wasn't a difficult task, and could do nothing but stare.

It was hideously red. The more shallow cuts were already beginning to itch and scab over, but the deep ones, the ones that required stitches, were raised and dark red—the deepest of them all was jagged and looked as though it had taken several tries before it closed.

I swallowed the bile in my throat and rolled the pants' leg down, and then rolled the other leg up. My left thigh was in just as horrible condition as my right one, just as many shallow cuts and just as many deep cuts. However, this leg only required only one set of stitches, whereas the other leg required three to four sets.

With shaky hands, I rolled the leg of my pants down. Then I wrung my hands together in my lap, looking at the chipping red nail polish on my middle fingers. Ashley placed his hands over top of mine softly, as though I were a skittish cat, and pressed his lips to mine.

"It's going to all work out," he said quietly, leaning away but pressing his forehead to mine. I had my eyes shut and was breathing as calmly as I could.

"How?" I asked brokenly.

He kissed my forehead. "I don't know, but it will. It may take weeks, maybe even months or years, but it will get better."

I nodded and tried to believe him, but it was difficult. I wanted things to get better; I wanted to be happy again, and not have to worry about my scars or my past. I knew it would take time, but part of me thought that the wait would drive me insane.

"Do you think they'll release me soon?" I asked Ashley.

I chanced looking him in the eyes, but he had his closed. Just then, the doctor knocked on the door and stepped inside my room.

"How are you feeling, Andy?" he asked me.

I shrugged uncomfortably. "Good, I guess," I said. It wasn't necessarily a lie.

He smiled. "That's good. I was standing outside your door, and I couldn't help but hear what you asked Ashley. Coincidently, that's what I want to talk to you about."

I felt my eyes light up, and I smiled at Ashley. He'd already opened his eyes and was looking at the doctor hopefully.

"Now, there's good news and there's bad news, though. Which do you want first?" he asked.

I took a deep breath. "Surprise me," I said.

He nodded. "The good news is you can go home tomorrow."

Ashley and I both grinned and I squeezed his hand unnecessarily. He was fixing to say something, but the doctor finished with the bad news.

"The bad news is that, because your friends and family agree that you going to a Behavioural Unit is a horrible idea, you've got to be watched all day, every day, and also have regular appointments with a psychiatrist—at least once a week."

Ashley and I looked at each other again, this time more somberly. I nodded slowly. "Fair enough," I said. Ashley breathed a sigh of relief, reached forward, and kissed me on the cheek. I smiled.

The doctor gave us a few pieces of advice, some papers to sign, and then he left the room. Almost instantly, Ashley grabbed me around the waist and pulled me to him, and he kissed me soundly on the lips.

* * *

_**Super important author's note:**_

Hey guys. Just an update on the fic, and some of you probably won't like me much for it.

I'm ending the fic.

I've been writing this since... March? February? It's been not quite a year. A lot has happened since February and March though. I met my bestfriend though this fic. I went to an inpatient hospital for SH while writing this fic. I dealt with the worst parts of my depression while writing this fic. It was my outlet, my release when I tried to stop hurting myself. When my family found out about my SH and sent me to the hospital, this and the band itself are the reasons I made it out semi-okay.

This fic really has changed my life.

But the thing is, I don't have the inspiration or the motivation to continue or finish it. I still struggle with SH, but I've found different outlets now. I've outgrown this ship, for one. I feel weird by writing a fanfiction about two very real heterosexual grown men, one of which being in a relationship with a woman I adore. I find it weird writing a fic about a band who has said very clearly that these kinds of fics freak them out.

In short, a number of things have caused me to not enjoy writing this anymore.

Not to mention the reviews and comments I get. I do have my share of friends who I've met along the way, who I've talked to quite a bit, as well as my bestfriend who I love, but I've also gotten my share of creeps and people who only care about the fic for smut. If you go through the reviews, you'll find a few people who have left reviews specifically asking when the smut will come, or complaining about the length of the fic, or just generally being dicks while still saying they like it. It's driving me crazy. I want it said, done, and out of the way that this fic is no longer being written.

However: I'm leaving it up, both on here as well as on my deviantART. Also, if you want to write your own ending to the fic, you're more than welcome to do so and send me the chapter on here, on dA, or Tumblr. I'll be more than happy to post it and credit you however you wish. I want to thank you guys for reading it and enjoying it, because I truly never expected it to get anywhere. I've gotten people send me messages that the way this is written has helped them to stop self-harming. People have told me that they've cried while reading because the bits about depression and SH and EDs are so accurately written. It makes me both happy and sad, because it's an amazing compliment but it's heartbreaking to know that so many people struggle with it.

But I digress. This fic is finished for me. If you'd like to contact me, my Tumblr URL (for the holidays) is dashingthroughthe-butts. (After Christmas/New Years it'll be back to iwontletyousuffocateme.) My deviantART is xandimichelle.

I love all of you who have read this monstrosity. It's the longest thing I've ever written, fanfiction or not.

-Kaci


	15. Finale, 1

**Author's Note: **Lovely end chapter written by the wonderful _Snow Whites Poison Kiss_. All credit, to her.

* * *

I shifted nervously, unable to stop my fingers from plucking at the hem of my jacket. I couldn't even comprehend what was about to happen.

Can I do it?

Can I go through this again?

The same two questions whirled around in my head, repeating, echoing, and pounding. I didn't have a headache yet, I hadn't gotten one in a very long time.

"Fresh start, Andy," Ashley snickered in my ear. I frowned, turning to glare at him and momentarily forgetting my previous worries. His hands were up in surrender, eyes innocent and wide. "Hey, your idea!" he accused.

"Shut up... It's been so long..." I muttered, turning back to look at the large building in front of me.

High school...

Not the same high school of course. Mom wanted me in school no matter what, even with the band just starting to take off. There wasn't a chance in Hell that I'd be able to go back to the old school, and Ashley had refused to go to some place that he had claimed was 'barren and cold without you there'. So, of course, he had tagged along.

"Nobody knows, Andy. And who knows, maybe some people will know us!" Ashley exclaimed brightly, elbowing me in my ribs.

"Don't get my hopes up!" I argued lightly, pushing him back. It carried on like that for the next ten minutes, us 'fighting' and chuckling whenever we landed a small blow. Ashley lost in my book though. Yelling 'not the face, not the face!' and pinning my arms behind my back? "That's cowards play," I teased, finishing off my own thoughts.

"No, I need the face. Without my face Black Veil Brides would be nothing," he gasped dramatically, smiling softly before letting me go. "Now, give me the jacket," he demanded, holding his hand out and wiggling long fingers. I had to admit, he had nice hands. As strange as it might sound, it was true. So detailed. They could be soft, even with the callouses.

Well, that's what happens when you play bass I guess, I thought as I stubbornly crossed my arms.

"I'll be naked," I scoffed, looking away from him.

"Andy, if you were naked I think I'd know it. Nothing gets by me," Ashley said softly, his tone containing a hint of teasing superiority. I fought the smile, and then sighed. I no longer had anything to be ashamed of, and never would again. After tossing Ashley my jacket, his hand flashed out, gripping my wrist and pulling it up.

"Ashley, I swear I haven't-"

"I know," he interrupted, squeezing my hand and running his other fingers down my forearm. The scars were still there, still visible, but for the first time... I wasn't ashamed. "You don't need to hide these, Andy," Ashley started, kissing the palm of my hand. "Don't be so reliant on a jacket to hide your battle scars."

"I won't..." I promised softly, offering him a reassuring smile. "I'm regretful of them, but I don't despise them like I once did. I don't love them either though," I said. "Maybe... proud? In a weird way?" I guessed after a brief hesitation.

"You better be!" Ashley said sternly with a bright smile, giving my hand one last squeeze before releasing it.

The bright smile brought back a fleeting memory, a small emotion. I couldn't even believe I had thought I wasn't good enough, wasn't perfect enough, for the man standing in front of me right then. I still don't think I will ever be able to guess what he's really thinking, but at least I don't live with the constant worry. The worry that Ashley would leave, taking all of my hard work with him. Taking my everything with me. Though, I would never let him do that. He can leave if he wishes, and it can tear me up, but I'll be a big boy and move on.

I can proudly say I survived, and I would sure as Hell make sure I still would be able to say that even if Ashley decided to leave.

"What are you thinking?" Ashley suddenly asked, poking me harshly in my stomach. I winced and glared at him lightly before answering.

"Nothing really," I replied, turning back to the school with pursed lips. I just had to get through eight months. Ridiculous? Very. But Mom would worry. She wanted me to get through high school, at least try again before really deciding to leave it behind for the band. "Just about how... I've changed."

"You haven't changed, Andy," Ashley said suddenly. I looked at him in surprise, slightly hurt from his words, but I'd never show it.

"What-"

"You haven't changed, Andy. Your actions have and the way you respond to things have. But you're still the same stubborn little ass I first met," he rephrased with a roll of his eyes. I glared at him fiercely then and frowned.

"Well, thanks so much," I said sarcastically, turning away from him again.

"If you weren't how could you even be interesting?" Ashley laughed. "Being an ass can come in handy!"

"Like how?" I asked, tone flat.

"Well, I do know that you will be being an ** to all the girls who hit on you," Ashley started. "They'll never let you go if you don't crush their little hearts," he teased. "And two, I'm pretty sure you get all energetic and happy when you act tough and 'machoey'," he added.

" 'Machoey'? That's not a word, Ash," I snorted, raising an eyebrow at him.

"It is now," Ashley said proudly, placing his hands on his hips and pulling himself up to his full height.

"You are going to completely ruin Black Veil Brides' image," I laughed, rolling my eyes.

"Hurtful, babe. You got me right in the heart," he countered, voice filled with faux pain. Chuckling, I started forward, intent on getting the rest of my high school career (no matter how short lived it will be) over.

Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to start out fresh? Who am I kidding, this was amazing? Six months ago, I would have never imagined getting this far. Six months ago, I lay in a hospital bed, making others worry about me. Now? I was healed. I had the scars to prove it, the friends to prove it, and a mighty fine doctor's note saying I was as cool as can be. I had a dark past, an amazing present, and the future?

Well, I hoped it involved lights, heavy beats, amazing guitar rifts, screaming, crazed fans, and my family. The Black Veil Brides.

"Promise me you'll never promise to not leave me, Ash?" I said before we pushed open the front doors of the new school. Ashley grinned, and nodded.

"Only if you promise the same thing."

"Deal."

* * *

**Author's Note**: [I actually fangirled when I read this and flailed everywhere. I'm pretty sure my sister thought I was on drugs.]

I want to clarify something real quick: if you have your own opinion on what the final should be, feel free to write it and PM it to me (or submit to my Tumblr or note it to me on my dA) I won't limit it to one end chapter; if you have it written, you'll be credited and it'll be posted. No limit on how many. The only thing I'd do to it is go through because I'm a Grammar Nazi.


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